Skyrim Book VI: Steffen
by gypsybee09
Summary: Steffen's talents had never been ones his Altmer race believed led to fame and fortune. He lacked the adventurous streak and combat abilities that most of his sisters possessed, and after finding himself lost and alone in Skyrim, he wasn't sure what path he would take. Nords, however, revere the bardic tradition. Perhaps his talents could be put to some use after all.
1. The Traveling Bard

Chapter One: The Traveling Bard (Morndas/Tirdas/Middas, 18th/19th/20th of Last Seed)

The young elf had gotten himself into quite the pickle now. He was lost. Completely. After all he and his siblings had gone through to stay together, he'd lost them. They'd rescued him, they'd traveled for miles facing dangers together, and then he went and got distracted by some beautiful scenery and couldn't find his way back to camp. His sisters were probably worried sick about him.

He sat on a rock at the edge of the cobbled road, running a hand through his long blonde hair. He'd traveled in every direction he could and yet kept finding himself back on this accursed rock.

He couldn't find his way back to their camp. He couldn't find the town of Helgen. Hell, he didn't even know if he was in Skyrim or Cyrodiil. He felt useless. Aerenwen was the warrior. Mari was the mage. Nesta was the resourceful on, and Elain was the hunter. Glenys had the knowledge of geography and different cultures. What could he do? Play the lute and embellish a story. What good was that when it came to surviving?

At this point, all he could hope for was to be found by one of his siblings, or another traveler, and pray to the divines that whoever came along wasn't one of the Thalmor who were looking for him.

It had been hours, it seemed. He'd wandered all night and through most of the day before giving up and plopping himself down onto the rock he kept passing. The sun was beginning to set, and he thought for sure he would find himself prey to some wild creature before the night was over. It wasn't as if he could actually defend himself with the dagger he wore.

Whistling drew his attention, and he looked down the road, seeing a man in simple clothing approaching him. He had fair hair and sun-kissed skin, and he carried a small satchel and a lute strapped to his back.

"Hello there, fellow traveler!" the man greeted warmly when he noticed the elf. "One itinerant minstrel and wandering wastrel at your service."

"You're a bard?" the elf asked, finding this stranger's jovial attitude contagious.

"That I am," he replied. "Trained at the Bard's College in Solitude."

A college for bards? The elf was intrigued.

"I am Talsgar," the man stated, extending a hand for a shake. "They call me 'the Wanderer'."

"Steffen," the elf replied, accepting his handshake. "What are you doing way out here?"

"Why, I'm out here to perform for the common man, of course!" Talsgar replied. "Why should only the courts and inns of wealthy towns be given the gift of music?"

"So you just wander around looking for places to perform?" Steffen wasn't a stranger to bards. He'd often dreamt of becoming one, despite his father's disapproval. The bardic tradition was one that the humans generally followed, not the elves.

"I do," Talsgar answered. "Some may find their inspiration locked away in tomes or by carousing in the cities, but I find mine here in the vast expanse of beautiful Skyrim. The best tales are those of adventure. Who could truly write of such without experiencing it for himself?"

Steffen had to admit the man had a point, though he doubted he'd ever be courageous enough to strike off into the world on his own.

"What brings you here?" Talsgar asked.

"I was traveling with my sisters, and we were separated," Steffen replied.

"Where were you headed?" the bard asked. "Perhaps you could find them there."

"Helgen," Steffen replied.

The bard frowned. "I'm sorry to be one to give you the news, friend, but Helgen was destroyed just this morning. I came from that direction, traveling from Riften, and they say a dragon attacked from out of the mountains. The town is in ruins, and there were few survivors."

Steffen sat in shock for a few moments. If his sisters had made it to Helgen, chances were they were dead. And a dragon? It was unbelievable.

"Are you new to Skyrim?" the bard asked.

Steffen nodded. "And quite lost. And now unsure of where to go."

"Well, if it's any consolation, you're welcome to join me in my travels until you find a place that strikes your fancy," the bard offered.

"Thank you," Steffen replied. "That's very kind. It seems I don't have much choice but to take you up on that offer."

* * *

The pair of travelers spent nights in Falkreath and Rorikstead. They stopped at farms and hunter's outposts along the way. The people all seemed to know Talsgar and were pleased to see him. They met with other bards at the inns in the towns who Talsgar knew, and they performed together, even inviting Steffen to join them.

"You're really quite good," Talsgar commented on the second day of their travels, as they walked the wooded road between Falkreath and Rorikstead. "You should really consider staying in Solitude when we get there and looking into joining the Bard's College. It's not for everyone, but you certainly have the talent."

The closer they came to Solitude the more seriously Steffen began to take Talsgar's suggestion, and by the time they reached the great stone walls of Skyrim's capital city, he had decided he would look into it. He'd always complained that he had no talent aside from his music, and perhaps, by studying at the college, he could make a life for himself through it.

Upon entering the city of Solitude during the evening of the third day, they walked upon the scene of what appeared to be a public execution.

A large, bearded man in the uniform of an Imperial officer stood upon a raised stone platform with a man of equally large stature whose face was hidden by a black executioner's hood. A smaller man with neatly cropped brown hair stood between them, hands bound behind his back.

Steffen was distracted from the spectacle by a little girl nearby.

"They can't hurt uncle Roggvir," she was crying, pulling at the shirt of a tired-looking man. "Father, tell them he didn't do it!"

"Svari," the man replied, "you need to go home. Go home and stay there until your mother comes."

"Yes, Father," the little blonde girl replied, turning and running away down the stone street.

"You should tell her that her uncle is scum who betrayed the High King," a woman nearby told the man. "Best she know now, Addvar."

"You're all heart, Vivienne," he replied with a sigh.

"Roggvir, you helped Ulfric Stormcloak escape Solitude after he murdered the high king," the Imperial officer on the stage-like platform called out over the crowd. The people gathered immediately ceased talking and were all ears. It had always amazed Steffen that people, human and mer alike, garnered such amusement from the punishment of their peers. "By opening the gate for Ulfric, you betrayed the people of Solitude."

Various members of the audience jeered and cried out.

"Traitor!"

"He doesn't deserve the right to speak!"

"There was no murder!" the prisoner cried out. "Ulfric challenged Torygg! He beat the High King in fair combat!"

"Liar!" spectators yelled.

"Such is our way!" the prisoner continued. "Such is the ancient custom of Skyrim! Of all Nords!"

More jeering from the gathered citizens.

"Guard, prepare the prisoner," the officer stated.

"I don't need your help," the prisoner replied stubbornly, rolling his shoulder to get the guard's hands off him.

"Very well," the officer replied. "Roggvir, bow your head."

The prisoner knelt before the chopping block and rested his head on it. His final words, spoken just loud enough for those gathered to hear, were, "Today I go to Sovngarde."

Steffen winced and couldn't help looking away as the headsman's axe split through the man's spine, separating his head from his body.

"Well, that was an ugly welcome to this beautiful city," Talsgar commented. "Come, Steffen. The inn is this way."

The inn in Solitude, called The Winking Skeever, was by far the finest inn outside of Cyrodiil that Steffen had visited. It was light and airy, richly decorated, and bustling with patrons. Talsgar immediately wandered off to greet some friends, and Steffen approached the counter where a man with chin-length blonde hair and long moustache greeted him with a smile.

"Welcome to the Winking Skeever, friend," he stated warmly. "Skyrim may be plagued by traitors, civil war, and now dragons, but those troubles don't cross my doorway. Sit, relax, have a bite to eat."

Steffan thanked the man and had a seat on one of the wooden stools. "Your inn has an interesting name," he commented. "How did you come up with it?"

"I had a pet skeever when I was boy, and he used to wink," the man replied with a chuckle. "It's a fond memory, and I thought it would be a memorable name. My name's Corpulus Vinius. I've run the inn here in Solitude for over a decade now and have lived in Solitude most of my life. If you've any questions about the city, or are looking for any juicy gossip, I'm sure I can oblige."

Steffan introduced himself and mentioned the execution he had just witnessed.

"I'm sorry that was your first impression of our fine city," Corpulus replied. "As a rule, Solitude's streets are peaceful, and its citizens content. What brings you here, anyway?"

"I'm looking into joining the Bard's College," Steffen explained. "It was recommended to me by a friend, and I thought it was worth a look."

"Ah, yes, most of the bards in Skyrim were trained there," the innkeeper answered. "Lisette, our resident bard, graduated a few years ago herself. You should talk to her. One of your race, Viarmo, is the headmaster of the college. He's the one you'll want to talk to join, I assume."

Steffen thanked him for the advice and paid him some coin to rent a room for the night. He bid Talsgar farewell, assuming the bard would be wandering off again first thing in the morning, and retired to his spacious and comfortable room for the night.

 **Author's Note: This is the first part of the final sibling's story. If you haven't read the first part of each of the five sisters, they can be found on my profile. After following Steffen through a few chapters, we'll check back in with Aerenwen and see what adventures the month of Hearthfire brings for her.**


	2. The Bard's College

Chapter Two: The Bard's College (Turdas, 21st of Last Seed)

The Bard's College was a beautiful steepled stone building with intricate stained glass windows located deep within the city. Upon entering, Steffen was greeted by a man with long blonde hair and a painted face.

"Greetings, friend," he stated with a smile. "Welcome to the Bard's College."

"Thank you," Steffen replied. "I'm looking for Viarmo."

"The headmaster is around here somewhere," the man replied. "I saw him talking to one of our professor's a short time ago. Come. I'll help you find him." Steffen walked with the man into a nearby room that had dozens of filled bookshelves, some tables and chairs, and a bar. "I'm Jorn, a student here. I'll be graduating soon and am looking forward to joining the Legion. I'll beat my drums as we go into battle and later sing of our victories. This may be called the Bard's College, but many a skald has been trained here as well."

Steffen knew a skald was the Nord term for a warrior bard, and this Jorn certainly looked the part.

"Ah, there he is," Jorn stated, gesturing toward a red-headed Altmer in fine clothes who was conversing rather heatedly with a similarly dressed man with a dark moustache and lopsided hat. "Viarmo, you have a visitor, sir."

The Altmer turned toward them. His smile was surrounded by a red beard that was braided in intricate knots below his chin. "Welcome to the Bard's College. I am the headmaster here. How can I help you today?"

"I am interested in applying," Steffen replied.

Jorn quietly wished him luck and excused himself, and the other man Viarmo had been speaking with wandered off as well.

"We're always interested in meeting prospective students," Viarmo replied. "From your accent, I assume you're not native to Skyrim."

"No, sir," Steffen replied. "I only arrived to Skyrim a short time ago from Auridon."

"Ah, it's been years since I've visited the home of my parents," Viarmo replied. "I, myself, was born in Cyrodiil, but we returned to Aldmeris during the war. Skyrim has been my home for close to thirty years. How did you hear about our college?"

"A friend referred me," Steffen answered. "Talsgar."

"Ah, yes, Talsgar the Wanderer," Viarmo answered proudly. "He was a fine student and makes a fine bard. His choice of lifestyle is certainly unconventional, but it suits him. Come, boy, let me hear what you've got." He placed a hand on Steffens arm and lead him to a chair in the corner.

Steffen played his own lute for Viarmo, singing a song of his homeland, and then also showed him what he could do with a flute and a drum the headmaster offered for him to use.

"You certainly are talented," Viarmo commented when Steffen had finished his audition. "You should know, we receive many applicants to the college, but only a few are accepted. You, though, seem to have what it takes to be one of our students and prospective bards. What's your name, boy?"

"Steffen," he replied, smiling. Receiving a compliment on his talent from a man of Viarmo's position was certainly flattering, especially considering most people of authority in his life up until then had been rather unsupportive of his music.

"Well, Steffen," Viarmo stated, patting the younger Altmer on his back. "Welcome to the college. You'll find we have a unique range of teaching skills here. You'll be trained in all three bardic instruments, though as you progress in your studies you may choose your favorite to focus on. We have four other professors. Pantea Ateia is the Dean of Flute and also teaches vocal lessons. Inge Six Fingers, the Dean of Lute, is our most veteran professor. Giraud Gemane is our Dean of History. I, myself, currently teach drumming as our Dean of Drums left us just a short time ago, and we haven't found an appropriate candidate to replace him. Along with your classes and studies here at the college, we often ask our students to complete tasks for the college, aquiring books or artifacts from ruins around Skyrim. While we're not warriors, by any means, aside from those like Jorn that choose that path, as bards it is important to see some of the world's history and adventure first hand or else our performances of the great tales will not be genuine. Come. Let me show you to the dormitory."

Steffen followed the man down a flight of stairs into the basement of the building. They entered a large and ornately decorated sitting room, and Viarmo led him to the left where a long narrow room was set up with several beds. Each sleeping area also housed a small end table and chest for storage and was separated from the next sleeping area by freestanding wooden pannels providing an illusion of privacy.

"The bed at the end is the available one," Viarmo explained. He pointed to each bed as they passed, stating the name of the student who slept there and telling Steffen a bit about them. "You met Jorn. He's one of our senior students, and the only one of our student body aspiring to be a skald at the moment. Aia Arria came to us from the Imperial City and is also one of our senior students. Ataf is a Redguard and is our youngest member of the college though he isn't our most recent recruit. And lastly, is Illdi. She's only been with us for just over a month. Our most recent accepted applicant prior to your arrival. And here is where you may lay your head." Viarmo gave Steffen a key to the chest located at the foot of his bed, and the young Altmer placed his few belongings inside it before following the headmaster for the rest of the tour.

"The kitchen is through here," Viarmo stated, leading Steffen passed the stairway and into a room opposite the dormitory. "Our cook, Bendt, has been with us for years and prefers we stay out of his realm."

An elderly man in a chef's hat looked over from the hearth where he was stirring something in a cast iron pot. "A new one, ay? Welcome. Meals here are served at designated times. Find a tavern if you want to make requests."

Viarmo chuckled as he led Steffen back out of the kitchen. "Charming old Nord, isn't he? Breakfast is served between six and eight in the morning. The midday meal between eleven and one, and dinner is served promptly at seven. We give a bit of leeway with the earlier meals to accomodate class schedules and what not. We ask that you confine your food and drink to the kitchen area or your own quarters. Too many mishaps with precious books have happened in the past."

Back up the stairs, they stood in the area Steffen had first entered. The room was bright and contained several benches and a few tables and chairs. "This, of course, is the reception area. We ask that any guests you may have who are not current or past members of the college remain in this area. We have a great deal of valuable tomes and artifacts housed within these walls, and unfortunately, some less than savory characters have taken advantage of our students in the past to gain entry and rob us."

Steffen stated that he understood and added that he couldn't imagine anyone who would visit him there anyway.

Viarmo led him into the room in which they had first met. "This is our main library. Most of our books can be found here aside from a few extremely rare pieces that can only be accessed with permission from a member of the faculty. The bar is mainly for ornamental services. We only serve from there during the rare public receptions we host."

Back in the reception area, Viarmo led Steffen toward the stairs again, this time starting up. He motioned to the area across the reception from the library. "That corridor is where the faculty bedrooms are located," he explained. "Those are our private quarters, and you shouldn't have any reason to visit there."

Upstairs there was a balcony area, and on each end of it was a large lecture hall. Viarmo showed him the small practice rooms located at the end of each lecture hall. "I will get you your class schedule later today," Viarmo replied, "and one of our faculty will be assigned as your advisor, and you will have private practice sessions with them. I assume you fancy the lute?"

Steffen nodded.

"Then I shall have Inge serve as your advisor," the headmaster replied. "That in no way means you are unable to choose to focus on a different instrument later in your studies should you decide you prefer something else, but it's best to focus on your strengths and experience for now." He clapped his hands and looked around. "Well, then, I shall let you get settled into your quarters and explore the college a bit. I will have your class list ready for you at dinner tonight and quite possibly an adventerous task for you by then as well. I already have something in mind." He smiled and left the younger Altmer standing alone at the top of the stairs.

* * *

Steffen had checked a book out of the library that seemed appealing. An Explorer's Guide to Skyrim had been written by an Imperial noble, and Steffen thought, perhaps, it might help him familiarize himself with his new home though he'd been disappointed thus far as it seemed to focus on the locations of several, supposedly magical, standing stones located across the province. He was interrupted from his reading by a soft voice at the foot of his bed.

Looking up, he saw that a beautiful woman in a simple green dress stood there smiling shyly at him. Her hair was dark brown and twisted into an intricate knot on the back of her head. "I heard we had a new student," she stated. "I just wanted to say hello and welcome."

Steffen sat up and smiled at the woman. "Thank you. I'm Steffen."

"Illdi," she replied. "I've only been here for about a month. It's been challenging, but this place is fascinating. It's like a musical museum!" She smiled widely when she said that, and Steffen could see she truly had a passion for her studies.

"What do you play?" Steffen asked, patting the spot beside him on the bed to invite her to have a seat.

She did so, blushing slightly. "The flute mostly," she replied. She played with the skirt of her dress between her fingers in a nervous gesture. "Lady Pantea wishes for me to start with the lute, but I worry I won't be as good as the other students. I'm a bit clumsy, and the lute seems so difficult."

"Nah," Steffen replied with a smile. "I've played the lute since I was a boy. I'd be happy to help you practice if you'd like."

"That would be kind of you," Illdi replied. "I . . . I've had a hard time fitting in here, honestly. I don't get the impression that I'm well liked. The professors seem disappointed that I am reserved and hesitant to try new things, and I haven't found a lot of support with my fellow students. Many of them are quite competitive. No one ever offers to help anyone like that."

Steffen shrugged. "I'm new here. To the college. To Solitude. To Skryim, even," he explained. "I've never been away from my home and family for a long period of time, and honestly, I'm already feeling quite alone. A friend would be great, and the way I see it, this is a school to help us all learn and excel as our best selves. It isn't a competition. When we're finished with our studies, we'll all go our seperate ways and make lives for ourselves. Who played the lute better than who when we were in school isn't going to matter much then."

Illdi smiled, and Steffen couldn't help but notice that her genuine smile lit up her entire face. "That's a really good way to look at, Steffen," she replied. "I'm glad you're here."

He returned her smile. "So, Illdi, where are you from?" he asked, leaning back against the wall.

"Morthal," she replied. "It's a town to the east of here, the capital of Hjaalmarch. That's one of Skyrim's nine holds," she explained when her new friend looked confused.

"What made you decide to join the Bard's College?" he asked.

Illdi shrugged. "Everyone used to tell me what a beautiful voice I had, ever since I was a small child," she answered. "My father, Jorgen, runs the town's lumbermill, and my mother, Lami, is an alchemist and runs and apothecary shop in town. I could've followed in either of their footsteps, but none of it ever appealed to me. I always wanted to get out of that small town and see the world, but I'm no warrior, and I'm not brave enough to adventure on my own," she confessed. "The innkeeper said something in jest one evening, that maybe if I got some formal training she could hire me as the inn's bard. The current bard, Lurbuk, isn't very good, really. He plays the lute and drum well enough, but he tries to sing, and well, he's an orc. They're not exactly known for their harmonious voices."

Steffen chuckled.

"There isn't much in Morthal. It's a small town, and it's quite isolated from the rest of Skyrim. It's surrounded by marshes, and most don't find it terribly hospitable, but it's home. There isn't much to draw anyone there, and Lurbuk is the only bard who's shown any interest, I guess. The locals put up with him, but the rare traveler through town always complains. After she said that, whether she was serious or not, I got to thinking that maybe my voice was my ticket out of Morthal, at least for a while, to study here and get some formal training. And that, maybe, if I wasn't able to hack it anywhere else, when I finished my studies, I'd have a paying job back at home waiting for me."

"Were your parents okay with you leaving?" Steffen asked.

"Yes and no," Illdi replied. "Pa wasn't too keen on it. I've always been a daddy's girl, and he can't exactly watch over me while I'm so far away, but Ma talked him into it. She wasn't born and raised in Morthal the way he was. She was born in Riften and then apprenticed under an apothecary in Windhelm, so she got to see the world a bit, travel, see what was out there. She moved to Morthal because of a business opportunity and met my father. She hasn't really left since, but she understood my desire to see what was outside of the small town, I guess. Pa felt secure in that I would at least be in one of the safest cities in Skyrim," she added. "Though with the civil war and talk of dragons, I'm not sure there's any place that's totally safe anymore."

"Do you miss them?"

Illdi nodded. "So much. I've never been away from home for this long before," she replied. "But I know it will be worth it. I need to find my way. Make my own connections and forge my own path in this world. I hope to visit them at the end of the month. We're given a few days off for the Harvest's End celebration, and I've been helping out at Katla's Farm outside the city to save up some coin for the trip."

"That sounds nice," Steffen replied. Harvest's End would be the first holiday he spent without his family, and he hadn't thought of that.

"If you don't have anywhere to go, you're welcome to make the trip with me," Illdi offered. "Thaer said it would cost about forty septims, roundtrip."

"That's very kind of you," Steffen replied. "I'll keep it in mind."

"Dinner will be served soon. Walk with me?" Illdi asked.

Steffen nodded and stood, extending a hand to help the woman to her feet.

The dinner Bendt served was delicious - vegetable stew, roasted beef, grilled leaks, and sweet rolls for desert. Steffen adored the spiced wine that was served and found it, by far, the best thing he had drunk since arriving in Skyrim. Nord mead did not appeal to him at all.

The professors sat at one of the long tables, chatting amongst themselves, and the students at the other. Steffen quickly discovered what Illdi had meant about their peers. Jorn was just as friendly as he had been earlier, but he ate quickly and then took off to spend the rest of the evening at the inn. Ataf was also friendly but was significantly younger than the rest of the students (Steffen couldn't imagine he was much older than fifteen), and his immaturity showed. And Aia . . . well, Aia was so conceited and exuded such an air of superiority, she would make some of his fellow Altmer appear humble.

After dinner, Viarmo approached Steffen and passed him a peace of paper with his class schedule written on it. He would meet with his advisor, Inge Six Fingers, first thing in the morning as an initial meet and greet. The class schedule was Monday through Thursday. Lute class was at nine, drumming at eleven, and vocals at two in the afternoon. Every Friday morning at eight he had a history lecture and then had private lessons with Inge at ten.

"As for you entry task," the headmaster stated as the two left the kitchen area together, "I have a bit of an adventure for you."

They sat down together in two ornately decorated wooden chairs in the area at the foot of the stairs between the dormitory and the kitchen.

"Every year on the 24th of Last Seed, we celebrate the burning of King Olaf," Viarmo explained. "It's been done for generations, a festival hosted by the Bard's College where we burn an effigy of the ancient High King and celebrate the city of Solitude who championed against him. This year, Jarl Elisif, has forbidden the festival. With the recent murder of her husband, the High King, she feels it is in bad taste to burn the effigy of another High King. I must change her mind. To convince her that this festival is not a sign of disrespect against the High King but rather a celebration of Solitude, I want to read her King Olaf's verse, a portion of the Poetic Edda that describes King Olaf's treachery. Unfortunately, the verse was lost long ago, and we only know of it now through other works that mention it. I thought all was lost, and we would be forced to cancel our precious festival, but we may have found it's location!" Viarmo was obviously very excited by this fact. "Our Dean of History, Giraud Gemane, has researched night and day since Elisif made her decision two weeks ago, and he believes a portion of the verse may exist in Dead Man's Respite, an ancient Nord tomb located southwest of Morthal.

"I want you to explore the tomb and see if you can find the verse," Viarmo told him. "We've hired a local sellsword, Belrand, to aide you as exploring ruins such as that can often be dangerous. I know you're not a warrior, and by no means do I wish for you to be harmed. Belrand will make certain of that. He's an excellent swordsman and also highly trained in both destructive and restorative magicka. I don't want him going without a member of the college, though. This verse is very valuable, and not only do I worry it may not make it back to our college if one us isn't the one to find it, but I fear a simple warrior won't understand the care with which it will need to be handled."

Steffen nodded. His cowardice had him wanting to turn the mission down. Exploring an ancient tomb sounded like something much more appealing to one of his sisters than to him, but he understood the importance of the discovery and the need for a member of the college to oversee it. In a way, he thought, it was an honor to have been chosen to help retrieve this peace of history, and he knew he would earn a great deal of respect at the college, possibly even throughout the city, if he was successful.

"You'll leave immediately after your meeting with Inge in the morning," Viarmo explained. "Belrand will meet you at the winking skeever. I placed a set of hide armor in your quarters should you choose to wear it. It should fit you well and would be more protection than common clothing. Do you own any weapons?"

"Just a dagger," Steffen replied. "I've never been very good at swinging a sword or shooting arrows."

"The dagger should be fine," Viarmo decided. "Belrand will handle most anything that comes along. I just don't want you to be completely defenseless. I suggest you speak with Giraud before you retire for the night. He can tell you more about the verse."

* * *

Giraud Gemane was an accentric man dressed in fine clothing and a rather silly looking hat, and from what Steffen could tell, he always seemed to have his nose in a book. He found the professor in the library, sitting at one of the tables, a pile of books strewn about in front of him.

"Excuse me, professor," Steffen said politely as he approached the man. "Viarmo said I should speak to you about King Olaf's verse."

"He's sending you after it then?" At Steffen's answering nod, he smiled. "Good. Whether it saves the festival or not, we shouldn't leave it lying around for just anyone to find now that I've figured out where it is." He closed the book he was reading and studied Steffen for a moment. "You're our newest student, yes?"

The Altmer nodded.

"Where are you from?"

"The Summerset Isles. Auridon, specifically."

"Ah, I'm from High Rock, myself," the professor replied. "Have you had much experience with adventures like this before?"

"Some adventures, yes," Steffen replied, "but nothing like this. Viarmo said he hired a sellsword to accompany me."

"Belrand, I'd imagine," Giraud replied. "He often provides the needed muscle on explorations such as this. He's always served us well. You'll be in good hands."

"Can you tell me a bit more about what it is that I'm looking for?" Steffen asked, taking a seat in the chair opposite the older man.

"Of course," the professor replied, obviously excited to be sharing a bit of history with a student. "The verse was Svaknir's contribution to the Poetic Edda, a series of poems that contrive the living history of Skyrim. Each bard adds to the Edda in his or her time," he explained. "The verse criticized the reigning King Olaf. He was so incensed by it that he had the bard put to death and burned all the copies. Or so we thought. So everyone has thought for hundreds of years! I translated an ancient text about a year ago, and it implied that a copy of the verse had been buried with the executed bard. Of course, none of us knew where the bard was buried, so we thought it a dead end. But since Elisif's proclamation, Viarmo has had me devoting the majority of my time to finding Svaknir's resting place, and I found it! If I am right, Svaknir and the truth of King Olaf's verse lie buried in Dead Man's Respite along with the burial chamber of King Olaf himself!"

"What can you tell me about this tomb?" Steffen pressed.

"Not much, I'm afraid," Giraud replied. "It's one of dozens of ancient tombs that are spread across Skyrim. They are filled with traps and puzzles and guarded by draugr."

"Draugr?" Steffen asked.

Giraud nodded. "The living dead," he replied. "Many say they are the corpses of ancient dragon priests who were cursed because of their treachery and sentenced to eternity guarding the tombs of the Nords. Whatever the cause, some sort of magic apparently causes these corpses to awaken when they sense an intruder."

Steffen swallowed heavily. This adventure was sounding more and more like something he should not be doing.

"Other dangers in the tombs include the fauna that make their home in Skyrim's recesses," the professor continued. "Skeevers, frostbite spiders, the occasional troll. You shouldn't expect to see any Falmer, I wouldn't think. The location of this particular ruin isn't really in close proximation to any Dwemer ruins."

"Falmer?" Steffen asked.

"Ah, yes, a fascinating and heartwrenching tale," the professor replied. "They were once the snow elves, a close relative of your race, but they were losing badly to the invading Nords. They sought refuge with the Dwemer." Seeing that Steffen looked equally confused at that tale, he elaborated. "The Dwemer, or dwarves, were also an ancient race of elves, long extinct, who built intricate underground cities beneath the mountains of Skyrim and Morrowind. Anyway, the snow elves went to these distant cousins for sanctuary, and the Dwemer agreed, but they tricked them. They fed them some type of poisonous mushroom, or so the stories say, that caused blindness. From then on, the snow elves served as slaves to the Dwemer. They revolted a few times, great wars taking place beneath the surface that those above had no idea were even occuring. Eventually the Dwemer disappeared, rather suddenly. The entire race. One of Tamriel's great mysteries, and the snow elves were left alone in their subterranean cities. Centuries of living underground has deformed them into vile creatures known as Falmer. Sometimes, when caves or ruins lie close to the underground tunnels of the Dwemer, the Falmer have found their way into them. But as I said, that shouldn't be the case with Dead Man's Respite."

Steffen left the history professor with an overwhelming amount of information and an unsettling feeling of fear. Perhaps, he shouldn't have taken Viarmo's advice to learn more about the verse after all.


	3. Dead Man's Respite

Chapter Three: Dead Man's Respite (Fridas, 22nd of Last Seed)

Inge Six Fingers was a strict old woman who told Steffen she had lived in Skyrim all her life and had been a teacher for nearly as long. She wasn't outwardly friendly and seemed quite set in her ways, but Steffen could tell she would be a good teacher. She complimented him on his talent after he played for her and offered some helpful suggestions in regards to his finger placement and form.

Belrand was waiting for him at the Winking Skeever. He was a middle-aged man with pointed features, and white hair growing to his shoulders, though the top of his head was bald. He wore a set of well-used iron armor and greeted Steffen with an appraising look. "You're the one from the college?"

The Altmer nodded, shifting himself in the hide armor. It was uncomfortable. He'd never worn armor before, and he didn't understand how his sister, Aerenwen, could prefer it over common clothes.

"I fight with both sword and spell," the Nord stated. "You're in good hands with me."

Dead Man's respite was located in a valley between mountains at the end of a dirt path. The outside consisted of stone steps and rustic standing stones with a large stone arch over the entrance.

The doors were stuck after years of not being opened and took quite a lot of Belrand's muscle to get them to move. They found themselves in a small room with a closed iron gate on the opposite side. Almost immediately, a bluish tinted apparition appeared in front of them.

"What the hell?" Belrand muttered, drawing his sword.

"Wait!" Steffen cried, putting a hand on the warrior's arm to stop him. "I think he's helping us."

As unbelievable as it sounded, the ghost beckoned to them and walked right through the iron gate.

"Now we just need to figure out how to open that," the warrior commented, looking around for a lever or chain of some sort.

Steffen approached a stone pedestal in the center of the room. Atop it sat an ornate golden ornament in the shape of a dragon's claw with ruby talons. Fascinated by the unique object, he lifted it. Immediately the iron gate opened, but four of the draugr Giraud had told him about awoke and stepped out of the coffins leaned against the walls.

Belrand quickly took care of the draugr, and Steffen was impressed by the warrior's skill. He had made the whole thing look quite simple.

Feeling better about his chances of surviving the mission, the Altmer bard-in-training followed his bodyguard through the raised gate. They made their way down a narrow passaged carved into the rock, and Belrand eventually held a hand out causing his charge to stop. He motioned toward an iron plate in the floor that Steffen hadn't even noticed.

"A trigger for a trap," the man explained, and they were both very careful to step around it.

The end of the passage seemed to be a dead end, and Steffen began to feel discouraged, but Belrand noticed a chain hanging from the wall and pulled it. The Altmer braced himself for a trap of some sort, but instead, rotating stone panels began moving in the wall ahead of them. They quickly made their way through into some catacombs. As they continued deeper into the barrow, the walls began to show a thick covering of spiderwebs, and Steffen immediately remembered Giraud's mention of frostbite spiders.

He remembered the many mentions of the giant arachnid species of Skyrim in the letters they had received from his adventuring uncle. He wasn't sure why it was these webs that caused the first thought of the man, considering he was part of the reason they were in Skyrim. A trained bard and mercenary, a skald just as Jorn hoped to be, Steffen began to wonder if, perhaps, his uncle Borir had once studied at the Bard's College.

Steffen was pulled from his wandering thoughts when Belrand began to battle two of the frostbite spiders. They fell to the ground with sickening screeches after he ran them through with his sword. He then cut their way through some thick webbing, revealing another passage ending with another pull chain that opened rotating stone doors.

A few more draugr, another avoided pressure plate trap, and a couple more frostbite spiders later, the two men found themselves in a rounded room that seemingly had no other way out aside from a large round iron gate in the floor. Belrand eventually found a pull chain that opened the gate, revealing a well.

"I say we jump," the warrior stated.

Steffen looked at him like he was crazy.

"There's no other way out aside from the way we came," Belrand explained, "and even if that crazy professor's hunch is wrong and what we're looking for isn't here, we still haven't found the main burial chamber. These places always have a main burial chamber for someone important at the deepest point of the barrow. Since we haven't found it, it means we haven't gone as far as we can go yet. So we jump."

Steffen sighed but nodded. His companion knew what he was talking about. The Nord jumped first, landing at the bottom with a splash, and the Altmer followed.

They found their way out of the water, which smelt stale, and traveled into a partially flooded passage. The stone floor was slick, and it took a great deal of caution to walk across it without falling. Belrand took care of two more draugr and a lone skeever before they finally found their way out of the water by climbing a wooden ramp that spiraled up and around a stone column.

At the top of the ramp was a gate. When Belrand opened it, several giant blades began swinging back and forth over the narrow stone bridge ahead of them. Just as Steffen was beginning to think there was no way he was going to cross that without losing his head, Belrand found a hidden lever. Pulling it stopped the blades, and they were able to continue on their journey.

After climbing another ramp similar to the first, they found themselves in a small room with an arcane enchanter. They followed the passageway beyond that, and it ended with a large set of wooden doors that glowed with a strange blue light.

Belrand reached forward to open the doors and was immediately zapped.

"This door is enchanted," he stated with a frown. "There's no way we're getting through it without an expert mage. Even then, without knowing exactly what enchantment is on the door, it would be tricky."

"So down the stairs, then?" Steffen asked, nodding toward a set of stone steps to their right.

Belrand nodded and led the way.

They continued following the winding passage deeper into the earth, disposing of draugr when necessary and avoiding the pressure plates in the floor that triggered unknown deadly traps. Their journey ended, once again, in a circular room with a round iron gate in the center of the floor. After killing a few more draugr, Belrand found the pull chain, and they followed a set of circular wooden stairs downward. At the foot of the stairs was a lever. Belrand pulled it, and a stone panel opened, revealing a rather unceremonious burial chamber.

Amidst scattered rocks with no coffin or urns, lay a decomposed skeleton. The apparition they had seen when first entering the ruin sat beside the skeleton and looked at Steffen with a smile. It motioned toward a worn book that lay beneath the skeleton's hand and then disappeared.

"This is Svaknir," Steffen realized. "This is where they laid him to rest, and that was his spirit helping us."

"I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," the warrior commented.

Steffen bent forward and very carefully removed the book from Svaknir's bony grasp. He gently turned the pages and was saddened to see that many had been damaged significantly over the years, but a great deal of the verse seemed to survive, and he knew Viarmo and Giraud would be pleased with the discovery.

"What a disrespectful way to lay a man to rest," Belrand stated, glancing around the room.

"He upset the wrong person," Steffen replied. "Perhaps that is why he helped us. Without a proper burial, he's been roaming this tomb for centuries. Maybe by revealing the truth written in his verse, we can finally lay him to rest."

Belrand grunted, not usually one for spirits and the like, but he didn't deny their existance. Not only had he just seen one with his own eyes, but he knew there were a great many unexplainable and magical things that happened in the world. That being said, ghosts made the usually fearless man extremely uncomfortable, and he was glad this one had been on their side.

The two men began to retrace their steps, finding their way back out of the ancient tomb, yet when they reached the top of the steps near the enchanted door, Svaknir's ghost appeared to them again. They watched as he walked through the enchanted door, and the enchantment seemed to travel with him. After he had disappeared to the other side, the door no longer glowed with the eery light, and Belrand was able to open it without any ill effects when he tried again.

Beyond the door was a long room with a rounded ceiling. At the end was a stone door. On the door were rotating panels engraved with animal symbols.

"You still have that claw?" Belrand asked.

"Yes," Steffen replied, pulling the claw from his satchel and passing it to the warrior.

Belrand studied the claw for a moment then rotated the stone panels to show a wolf, a hawk, and another wolf from top to bottom. "This is an ancient Nord puzzle door," he explained. "There are several throughout Skyrim, usually sealing the tomb of someone important. They're impenetrable without the corresponding dragon claw key. Generally, they were kept right in the tomb, like this one was, but sometimes, they've been stolen. Other times they were given to an important family for safekeeping. They're scattered all around Skyrim now and are quite sought after by adventurers and scholars. Not only is the solution to the puzzle carved onto the back of the claw," he showed Steffen, "but the claw is actually a key. Like this."

He placed the three ruby talons in the three holes that were located in a round silver emblem in the center of the door. He turned the claw, then removed it, and with a great groan and flying dust, the stone door began to disappear down into the floor.

They found themselves in a massive chamber with a high ceiling. On each side of the chamber were at least a dozen stone thrones, each with a draugr sitting in it. As they entered the room, the draugr awoke one by one. Svaknir's ghost disposed of many, and Belrand helped. Steffen was extremely proud of himself when he was able to take one down with his dagger to the back of his neck as it approached Belrand from behind.

When all the draugr had been dealt with, Svaknir's ghost finally spoke.

"Arise, Olaf!" he cried in an eery voice that echoed through the chamber. "Arise that I may have my vengeance!"

Instead of a draugr, the spirit of King Olaf appeared, glowing the same blue as Svaknir's ghost. He was a fierce-looking spirit, wearing a horned helmet, and Steffen watched in shock as he leaned forward and a terrifying roar-like voice came from him.

Svaknir was nearly knocked over, but he persevered, and the two living men watched as the ghosts battled before them. Finally, Svaknir was victorious. As he disappeared one last time, his voice echoed through the chamber.

"Peace at last."

Belrand looked around the chamber for anything valuable, as he had done on several occasions during their exploration, finding a key, he unlocked a door beyond Olaf's coffin.

"These places usually have a back way out," he told Steffen. "I'm guessing it's this way."

When the Altmer didn't answer, he turned to find the young man staring at an intricately carved curved wall. Atop the wall, carved into the stone, was the head of a dragon, and all along the wall were etched words in a strange language.

"That's a dragon wall," Belrand explained. "Have you ever heard of the Thu'um?"

Steffen shook his head.

"Legend says centuries ago, the goddess Kyne gifted mortals with the ability to speak as dragons did," he said. "They were able to use this voice, the Thu'um, to overthrow their dragon overlords. Some Nords still practice the way of the voice. The Graybeards are an ancient order of monks who live at the top of the tallest mountain in all of Tamriel, The Throat of the World. They are experts of the voice and are said to be able to train others in their way. Suppposedly Ulfric Stormcloak was trained by them. They say he shouted King Torygg right off his throne. Anyway, these walls have something to do with it. No one knows how to read them now or unlock their knowledge, but the words, I suppose, are written in the dragon language. It is said that the legendary dragonborns could read them and learn new shouts from them."

"Dragonborns?" Steffen asked.

"Mortals born with the blood of dragons," Belrand replied. "But they don't exist anymore. Died out not long after the dragons themselves. The last one known was Tiber Septim, Talos himself. Makes you wonder, if the dragons are returning, will the dragonborn as well?" They stood in silence for a moment, admiring the ancient craftsmenship of the wall. "We should get moving," the warrior stated finally. "Old Viarmo is probably chomping at the bit awaiting our return."

* * *

It was close to midnight before the pair returned to Solitude. They parted ways outside the Winking Skeever, and Steffen hurried back to the college. He found Viarmo pacing in the reception area. Giraud sitting in a nearby chair looking just as anxious.

"Ah, finally!" the headmaster exclaimed upon seeing Steffen. "You've returned. How went the errand I sent you on?"

"I'd say it went well," Steffen replied, handing the other Altmer the ancient book.

Viarmo stared at the book in his hands in awe. "I . . . I have to admit, I didn't think it would actually be there. This is amazing!"

Giraud let out a cheer of celebration and jumped to his feet. "Now I can sleep," he commented with a smile. "I'll have a look at it tomorrow when you've finished practicing for Elisif." He bid the other two good night and headed toward his chamber.

"Now, let's have a look at this," Viarmo commented, opening the book. He carefully thumbed through the pages, frowning more and more the further he went. "While still a remarkable discovery, I'm afraid this won't do for my presentation to Elisif at all. This copy is incomplete. It's aged to the point that some parts aren't readable at all, and the parts that are . . . well, let's just say that bardic verse has come a long way since ancient times."

"It won't work at all?" Steffen asked.

"I'm afraid not. Not in this state," Viarmo replied. "Without the complete verse detailing the wrongs committed by King Olaf, I won't be able to convince Elisif of the importance of the festival. Without being able to convince her of that, she won't reverse her decision, and the Burning of King Olaf will not happen on the 24th of Last Seed for the first time in at least a hundred years!"

Steffen wracked his brain to come up with a solution to calm the agitated headmaster down.

"Not to impune your discovery, of course," Viarmo clarified. "This is still a monumental historical discovery. Much can be gleaned from what is there, and this institution is indebted to you for your retrieval of it. It just won't work for the intent I had hoped."

"This may sound crazy, but . . . if no one's read this verse in centuries, couldn't you just, I don't know, make it up?" Steffen wondered.

"Make it up? Why . . . that's absurd! Unethical . . . it doesn't seem appropriate," Viarmo replied, but then he grinned. "Although it just may work. I suppose I could attempt to copy Svaknir's writing style, fill in the blanks. Come! Sit with me in the library, and we shall see what we come up with."

"O, Olaf, our subjugator, the one-eyed betrayer," Viarmo read, "death-dealing demon and dragon-killing king. Your legend is lies, lurid and false; your cunning capture of Numinex, a con for the ages." He looked at Steffen in excitement. "King Olaf was Olaf One-Eye? I didn't know that. I'm not sure anyone did."

"Who was Olaf One-Eye?" Steffen asked.

"An ancient Jarl of Whiterun and High King of Skyrim," Viarmo explained. "He famously captured the dragon Numinex and had his entire keep rebuilt to house the dragon. The keep has been called Dragonsreach ever since, and the skull of Numinex hangs over the Jarl's throne. I had no idea the treacherous King Olaf our college has burned in effigy for so many years because of his wrongs against Solitude was the celebrated ruler of Whiterun." He thought for a moment. "How could his capture of Numinex have been a con? They say they had a fierce battle atop a mountain, and Olaf was victorious."

"Perhaps there was no battle," Steffen suggested. "Maybe Olaf and his men stumbled upon the dragon when he was asleep and were able to subdue him and bring him back to the keep. Then lied about it to make himself sound more powerful."

Viarmo laughed with joy. "That sounds good! And believable! Something like that could really have happened. He scribbled a few lines on a piece of paper and then turned back to the book. "Olaf grabbed power by promise and threat; from Falkreath to Winterhold, they fell to their knees; but Solitude stood strong, Skyrim's fiercest protectors. Olaf's vengeance was instant, inspired and wicked." Viarmo leaned back in his chair. "Strange. According to history, Solitude attacked Winterhold, but Svaknir seems to be saying that Olaf reacted."

"Maybe Olaf had some of his troops attack Winterhold disguised as those from Solitude in order to sour their relations?" Steffen suggested. "Or he somehow tricked Solitude into invading Winterhold?"

Viarmo nodded, scribbling quickly onto his paper. "That's good. Believable. If he really was as treacherous as they claim, attacking his ally and blaming it on his enemy would certainly be possible." He finished his writing and closed the book. "There! It has a few more lines, but that's all we needed to add. Thank you for your help, Steffen. You're proving to be an asset to the college."

Steffen smiled and humbly accepted his headmaster's praise.

"Elisif holds court at ten in the morning every day but Sundas," Viarmo explained. "Go get some sleep, and you can accompany me in the morning when I go to present this."

Steffen agreed and made his way down to the dormitory, finding his bed and changing into something more comfortable for sleeping as quietly as he could so as not to wake the other students. He placed the hide armor in his chest along with the ruby dragon claw and hoped he would never have to wear the uncomfortable get up again.


	4. Elisif's Court

Chapter Four: Elisif's Court (Loredas, 23rd of Last Seed)

Steffen woke early, despite only having gotten a few hours of sleep. He joined Illdi for breakfast, and she expressed her relief that he had returned from his errand unharmed.

"I couldn't believe it when I heard they had sent you to Olaf's tomb," she stated. "That was so dangerous! They gave you a much tougher task than they gave me."

"What was your task?" Steffen wondered.

"I had to retrieve a book from some collector in Windhelm," she replied. "Could've been dangerous, I suppose, with the war and what not, and the man, Calixto, I think his name was, seemed a bit crazy. I didn't really like how he looked at me. But he happily handed the book over when I showed him the large payment Viarmo had provided me with, and I was able to head right back here."

"What are you thoughts on this civil war?" Steffen asked, having heard all about the battle between the Imperials and the Stormcloaks from Talsgar.

Illdi shrugged. "I think it's a shame, honestly. So many people dying. My folks are loyal to the Empire," she added, "religion isn't all that important to them, really. I understand people not wanting to be told what gods they can and cannot worship, but from the way I understand it, if the Emperor hadn't submitted to the Thalmor's demands, we'd have lost the war, and things would be even worse. No offense. I know the Thalmor rule your homeland."

"None taken," Steffen replied. "My sisters and I left because of the Thalmor. They aren't any better to their own people than they are to others."

Illdi frowned at that, and Viarmo, who was the only other person in the kitchen at the time, aside from Bendt, joined the conversation.

"As a bard, I find the whole affair depressing," he commented. "There are no heroes in this war. No winners to be had and no real conclusion. In truth, if you're looking for something a bard can dig into, look to the dragons. A thousand years from now, Skyrim will have changed rulers a dozen times, but the return of the dragons? That's something that happens once an era." He stood then and looked to Steffen. "I will meet you in reception in an hour," he stated before returning his empty plate to Bendt.

"What's happening in an hour?" Illdi asked.

"I'm going with him to the court when he presents Olaf's verse to Elisif," Steffen replied.

Her eyes widened, surprised at his quick acceptance to the goings on in the college.

"I think, because I'm the one that retrieved it, he feels I'm owed a bit of the glory from such a discovery," Steffen replied with a shrug. "You could probably come along if you wished. Aren't these court times open to anyone?"

Illdi nodded. "Yes, but I'm due to spend a few hours working at the farm today," she replied. "Thank you, though. Have you given any more thought to my invitation for Harvest's End?"

"Not really," Steffen replied honestly. "With all the adventure of the last twenty-four hours, I've pretty much been running on pure adrenaline and not doing much thinking."

Illdi chuckled.

"I'll give it some thought when things slow down later today," he told her.

She smiled. "I hope you decide to come with me. I hate to think of you alone here on the holiday, and I'd be happy to show you another piece of Skyrim."

* * *

The Blue Palace, seat of the Jarl of Haafinger and High King of Skyrim, was an absolutely stunning building, like most in the lavish city. A reception area led to two sets of stairs that extended upward toward each other in a crescent shape. At the top of the stairs was the throne room. An attractive young woman sat upon the guilded throne, and the room was filled with people milling about and conversing.

Viarmo and Steffen stood to the side as the Jarl dealt with other business first. A few citizens had various petitions, and a spokesman from the town of Dragon's Bridge came to the Jarl with concerns of something odd happening in a cave near the town. Finally, the steward informed Viarmo it was his turn, and he stepped forward.

"Ah, Viarmo," Elisif stated when she saw him, "I assume you are here to petition for the reinstatement of the Burning of King Olaf Festival."

"I am, Jarl," Viarmo replied. "I wish to present King Olaf's verse, a previously lost portion of the Poetic Edda, recovered just yesterday from the bard's tomb."

"I was told you had something you thought would make me reconsider, but I didn't expect the discovery of King Olaf's lost verse," the Jarl replied excitedly, obviously knowing a bit about history and the arts. "Please proceed."

Viarmo spoke loudy in a smooth tenor as he recited the poem:

"O, Olaf, our subjugator, the one-eyed betrayer, death-dealing demon and dragon-killing king. Your legend is lies, lurid and false; your cunning capture of Numinex, a con for the ages. No shouting match between dragon and man; no fire and fury did this battle entail. Olaf captured a fast-sleeping dragon, a mighty feat which the meek would not fail. Olaf grabbed power by promise and threat; from Falkreath to Winterhold, they fell to their knees; but Solitude stood strong, Skyrim's truest protectors. Olaf's vengeance was instant, inspired and wicked. Olaf gave orders, friend against foe. Because Solitude would not soon bend knee, Olaf would hurt them while his status accrued. He sacked Winterhold, his only true ally, and cunningly, he blamed Solitude. So ends the story of Olaf the Liar, a thief and a scoundrel we of Solitude commit to the fire. In Solitude, bards train for their service; We also gather each year to burn a king who deserves it."

The court erupted in applause as Viarmo finished his performance.

"You have proven your point, Viarmo," Elisif finally stated. "The festival is truly a celebration of Solitude and a condemnation of false kings."

"I thank you, and the college thanks you, Jarl," Viarmo replied with a truimphant smile.

"Furthermore, I believe such a monumental discovery as this poem deserves some form of patronage," the Jarl continued. "The college will be generously rewarded for its valiant efforts at preserving our history and traditions."

"Thank you, yet again," Viarmo stated. "The college will put the money to good use in our research and training, and I will make sure that our student who was instrumental in the poem's recovery will be well rewarded."

The next petitioner stepped forward to address the Jarl, and Viarmo met Steffen at the top of the stairs.

"Unbelievable!" he said happily. "This worked out even better than I could have hoped. You've done us a great service here. I can't begin to thank you enough. I have a few errands to run now that the festival is back on for tomorrow. I need you to go speak to Jorn. He was in charge of preparing the effigy. I need to make sure he continues preparations if we want it to be ready by tomorrow night."


	5. The Burning of King Olaf

Chapter Five: The Burning of King Olaf (Sundas, 24th of Last Seed)

The following morning, Steffen was presented with a hefty payment from the money the college had received from the Jarl for the discovery of King Olaf's verse. Considering the size of his payment, he could only imagine just how large the entire payment made to the college was.

Steffen was anxious to stock up on some supplies and expand his wardrobe. The one outfit he owned looked rather ragged, and living in a fine city like Solitude, he needed a few options in dress. Yet the shops were all closed on Sundas, so his shopping excursion would need to wait until the following day.

Instead, he spent the day exploring the college, skimming through books, practicing his lute, and getting to know Illdi better. He was finding a great friend in the young Nord woman, and, though he hadn't admitted it to her, found her quite attractive as well.

Steffen had never had a hard time attracting ladies. Most didn't appeal to him. He found the majority of his race to be conceited and just generally unpleasant. He'd often wished he could find a fellow Altmer like his sisters, someone who was more down to earth and open-minded than the average high elf. He had found that in Catrin.

Not long after he joined the revolutionary group known as The Beautiful, he met Catrin, a sort of lieutenant in the secret society. She brought out a side in Steffen that had rarely been seen before - confident, brave, willing to risk everything to stand up for what he believed in. Unfortunately, it was exactly that trait found in both Steffen and Catrin that eventually led to their downfall. They were infiltrating a Thalmor treasury building in the capital city with the intent to reallocate some of their funds to those who truly needed them when they were caught. Catrin was killed, along with two of their other comrades, and Steffen and the rest were wounded and taken into custody.

He spent almost a month in a Thalmor prison where he was tortured for information and nearly starved to death before his sisters arrived to rescue him. Unbeknownst to him, his actions had cast a negative light on his entire family, and they were all wanted criminals to the Thalmor. His parents had been arrested, and after freeing him from the compound in which he had been held, they infiltrated the smaller prison where their parents were. Whether his escape had tipped those in charge off or something else had happened, they walked right into a trap and barely escaped with their lives let alone their parents.

Ever since, Steffen had been wracked with guilt. Could he have done anything to prevent Catrin's death? Not to mention the fact that it was because of him his sisters were on the run and his parents had most likely been executed. He expected a future of guilt-ridden self-loathing, yet he had found a place for himself in Skyrim. Perhaps this was his second chance. Perhaps his talents as a bard could help him get the truth about the injustices of the Thalmor out there. Sure, he may eventually end up like Svaknir, but his words would survive.

Despite all this, he found another reason to feel guilt in Solitude. Illdi was bringing out that same side of him that Catrin had. He found her attractive and intriguing and wanted to spend all his time with her. He felt guilty for this because Catrin had been gone just two months. Was it doing her memory an injustice to desire to move on so quickly? Or had he really never loved the other woman and only been drawn to her because of the excitement of their circumstances?

Steffen had spent most of the evening mulling over these thoughts and was only interrupted when Illdi appeared at the foot of his bed.

"It's finally dark," she told him excitedly. "The festival is about to begin!"

He hurried outside with her and joined the others gathered in the courtyard behind the college. A large stuffed effigy of King Olaf wearing a wooden crown hung on a post in the center of the stone yard. Members of the college as well as many citizens of the city watched as Viarmo approached it with a lit torch.

"Welcome, people of Solitude!" he called out. "We at the college are pleased to be here with you to celebrate the burning of King Olaf! This festival would not have been possible without the dedication and hard work of the newest member of our student body, Steffen, and our Dean of History, Giraud Gemane." He raised the torch to the effigy. "With the lighting of King Olaf . . ." the bottom of the effigy caught flame, and the fire quickly spread upward . . . "we celebrate the history of Solitude, its people, and its brave fight to ensure that only a worthy king rule over Skyrim."

The crowd cheered, and Steffen joined them. He stood with Illdi for some time, just staring at the burning pire in the middle of the crowd.

"It's surprisingly beautiful," she commented. "To think, they've done this right here in this very spot for hundreds of years."

Steffen smiled at her and extended his arm. "Come. Let's see what else this festival has to offer."

Illdi returned his smile and tucked her arm through his, allowing him to guide her through the crowd. They were stopped frequently and greeted by other festival-goers, many of whom thanked Steffen for his role in making sure the festival was allowed to continue.

In the courtyard just outside the entrance to the college, several vendors were set up. Bendt was selling various deserts and candies and offering one free sample to each patron. Steffen chose a sweet roll, and Illdi a honey nut treat. She then led Steffen to another vendor.

"One free bottle of my special spiced wine for each person attending the festival," the woman announced as they grew closer.

Steffen's eyes widened, and he glanced at Illdi, realizing this was the woman who made the spiced wine he had raved about since joining the college.

"Evette," Illdi greeted as they approached her stand.

"Hello, Illdi," the woman replied with a smile.

"Allow me to introduce, Steffen, the college's newest bard-in-training," Illdi said. "He's a big fan of your spiced wine."

The woman smiled. "Well, I suppose I could spare two bottles to the man who saved the festival and is such a fan."

Steffen laughed and thanked her, receiving the bottles. "You make the wine yourself?"

"I do," she answered proudly. "It's a secret family recipe. The only good thing my father ever did. In fact, it's so good, no one else in Skyrim even tries to duplicate it anymore. I get offers to ship it all over the province, but I'm too small of an outfit to do that. I wish I could. The extra money would certainly help. I can barely make ends meet what with the ridiculous tithes the East Empire Company charges for all my spice shipments."

As Steffen and Illdi walked away, his mental gears were turning. How could he help that woman get her amazing product to a wider market?


	6. Morthal

Chapter Six: Morthal (Morndas/Tirdas/Middas, 25th/26th/27th)

Steffen thought he was thoroughly going to enjoy his bardic classes at the college.

Inge was just as organized and down to business in class as she had been during their meeting. She performed two songs for her students, a basic one for the beginners and a more advanced one for those who had been there longer. They were to practice it, and the senior students were to work on embellishing the songs somehow to make them their own. She assigned Steffen some reading about the origin of the modern lute.

He found it amazing that she was able to teach a class that applied to learners at all skill levels, but soon found this to be the norm of all the professors at the college. With not only students with varying abilities based upon their strengths, weaknesses, and level of experience but also students beginning their studies at any given time during the year, there was no set course of study or time restraint upon the programs. Each student was given a checklist of sorts in each subject area. The lists were quite extensive, and when completed, they were able to move on to the next skill level. Steffen and Illdi were both at the novice level. Ataf was an apprentice. Jorn was at the adept level, and Aia had recently reached the expert level. When a student had completed the expert level checklist in all areas of study, they were asked to choose a focus, whether that be an instrument, vocals, or history, and then they received their final checklist just for that chosen area. When completing this, they were considered a master of that area of bardic performance, and, in a sense, had learned all the college had to teach them.

Steffen had been told it took the average student two to three years to reach the end of their training, though there was the rare case of completing it in less than that, and occasionally, it might take longer. It was all very much student-centered, and Steffen truly admired this method of teaching. Viarmo, as headmaster, had the rare accolade of having reached an expert level in all the training areas, and, apparently, that was a necessary requirement for the position of headmaster.

Another thing Steffen admired about the teaching staff was their own desire to learn. He often overheard them teaching one another, especially Giraud who felt inclined to share random historical facts with nearly everyone he came across.

The only professor Steffen wasn't terribly fond of was Pantea, the Dean of Flute and vocal instructor. She was a bit too uppity for his liking, and it was clear she chose favorites based upon her treatment of Aia as opposed to the rest of them. Not to mention, one morning at breakfast, she was looking at Steffen in a way that didn't make him feel terribly comfortable. Afterward, Bendt had given him a warning.

"Look out for that one," the old man had stated quietly when Steffen passed him his dirty plate. "She's been known to have inappropriate relationships with the young men around here. She never gets in trouble for it, but students get kicked out. She's the reason Petur left. He was the one that taught the drums. They were married, you see, and he got tired of her bedding his students behind his back. If you ask me, she should've been the one made to leave, but her father's a big benefactor of the college, so that'll never happen. Petur stayed for a time after he told her he didn't want anything to do with her anymore, but I suppose that'd be hard. It's bad enough he's trapped in the marriage the rest of his life, but to stay here and watch her make a fool of him? Can't really blame him for leaving."

After the cook's warning, Steffen began to do his best to make sure he didn't somehow end up alone with Pantea.

On the morning of Harvest's End, Steffen and Illdi boarded a carriage outside of the city bound for her home of Morthal. The celebration of Harvest's End was a traditional event that was held throughout Tamriel to celebrate the end of the final harvest and, therefore, the end of farming season. It was both a celebration of an end to some of the hardest work of the year and, for provinces with long winters like Skyrim, one last night of debauchery and excess before people needed to start being conservative with supplies over the long winter.

Of course, things weren't as difficult as they had been in their forefather's time. With trade now spanning throughout Tamriel, very few supplies were unattainable even during the winter months, and some Nord farmers had found ways to grow certain crops even in the cold, hard winter soil, a talent necessary for survival in cities in the north where the ground rarely went without a frost even during the summer months.

Eventually, the Empire had declared Harvest's End to be an official holiday, rather than a provential celebration, and set the date as the 27th of Last Seed. Depending upon the location and the nature of the growing season, it didn't always mark the actual end of harvesting, but it was a day when shops closed early, and people spent the evening with their family and friends, usually in the local taverns, drinking and eating to excess, reminiscing, and enjoying the simple joys of life without worrying about work or surviving. Shops opened late on the 28th, and then everyone went back to business as usual.

In Aldmeris, Harvest's End hadn't been one of the more important holidays, but it had still been celebrated. Though members of the Thalmor would rarely be seen partaking in the festivities, the common citizens, especially the laborers and shopkeepers, appreciated the shortened work hours and the excuse to celebrate with those they held dear.

The trip to Morthal took most of the morning. Steffen couldn't help but notice they took the same road he had traveled with Belrand, and he pointed out the dirt path that led to the tomb when they passed it. From there, the road crossed a bridge and traveled through some mountains that were still touched by snow, even during late summer.

Morthal was a small town, despite it being the capital of its hold. Illdi had explained on the trip that Hjaalmarch was the poorest of all the holds in Skyrim, and the town held no strategic or economic importance. The hold had one major mine in it, but it was owned by Thane Bryling of Solitude, so aside from the taxes, Hjaalmarch got very little income from it. The smaller mines close to Morthal were too remote to establish much trade with other cities. The hold was surrounded by marsh to the north and steep mountains to the south, and, according to Illdi, the shortest road to the closest city of Whiterun went by Labrynthian, some ancient haunted city no one wanted to go near. The only industry in the hold's capital was the lumbermill, but a lack of forests in the hold prevented that from doing much business aside from serving the residents of Morthal, and the town didn't even have a general goods store.

The town itself was dark and dreary. It was built upon the edge of the marsh, and the fog from the festering water seemed to hover over the town giving it a foreboding and almost haunted appearance and decreased visibility substantially. Illdi had said most travelers steered clear of the town, and at first glance, Steffen could see why.

They climbed out of the carriage, retrieving their bags, and Illdi led her friend through the streets of the town. The buildings were mostly wooden, with thatched roofs and stone foundations, and were quite rundown in appearance. The citizens seemed friendly though, greeting them with smiles as they passed, and they all seemed to know Illdi by name.

Illdi stopped outside a two story building. A wooden sign hanging over the door read Thaumaturgist's Hut. She led Steffen inside, and he was a bit surprised at the warm and welcoming feel inside the shop. Shelves were lined with alchemy ingredients and various potions, an alchemy station was set up in the corner, and an attractive middle-aged woman with dirty blonde hair stood behind the counter.

"Illdi!" she cried, running to embrace the younger woman. "I so hoped you would be home for Harvest's End."

"Hello, Ma," Illdi replied, smiling widely. "I hope you don't mind, I brought a friend and fellow student from the college with me. Ma, this is Steffen. Steffen, my mother, Lami."

"Of course I don't mind," her mother replied, surprising Steffen with a hug as well. "The more the merrier, and you know I am happy to meet your new friends. Welcome to Morthal, Steffen."

"Thank you, ma'am," Steffen replied. "I didn't have anywhere to go for the holiday, and your daughter wouldn't hear of me spending it alone at the college."

"That's my girl," Lami said proudly. "Family and friends are the important parts of life, no matter what path you choose to travel. You don't have any family to go home to Steffen?"

"Well, until arriving in Skyrim a few weeks ago, my home was in the Summerset Isles," he replied. "It's a much longer journey than a couple of days of cancelled classes would allow."

"Ah, I see," Lami replied. "Well, make yourself to home here. Think of it as your home away from home and us as your surrogate family."

Illdi beamed at her mother's acceptance of Steffen.

"Also, I don't mean to assume where your loyalties lie, but people are quick to judge," Lami stated with a frown. "Morthal is still under Imperial control, so you won't have to worry about any Stormcloaks hassling you for being a high elf while you're here."

"Thank you, ma'am," Steffen replied. "I haven't been in Skyrim long enough to choose a side in this civil war," he explained, "though, I suppose, if I had to choose, I'd side with the Empire. That being said, there's no love in my heart for the Thalmor."

"I think that's the way most Nords feel, honestly," Lami replied, returning to her spot behind the counter. "I don't think most are as radical as Ulfric and his men. We aren't against other races being in Skyrim. We just want to be able to live our lives as we always have. We're loyal to the Empire because they've always done right by us, but not to those elves. I don't believe for a moment they have the best interests of Skyrim, or any of the Empire for that matter, at heart."

"I couldn't agree more, ma'am," Steffen stated.

"Please, call me Lami, I insist."

"You have quite the selection here, Lami," Steffen commented, browsing the shelves.

"You know your way around an alchemy shop, Steffen?"

He nodded. "My mother was an alchemist, a mage, and a healer. She ran an alchemy shop out of our home. I never studied it or really took to it the way some of my sisters did, but it was hard not to pick up a few things here and there."

"It sounds like your mother and I would have a bit in common," Lami stated with a smile.

"You would've, yes," Steffen replied.

"I'm sorry, Steffen, did your mother pass away?" Illdi asked, not having realized that before. Although she'd gotten to know her new friend quite well, he talked very little about his family or his home.

"I think so," he replied with a sigh. "I'm not really sure. She and my father were both prisoners of the Thalmor when my father insisted my sisters and I leave for the mainland," he confessed. "I assume they've been executed by now. The Thalmor aren't known to keep people who disagree with their methods alive for very long."

Illdi placed a comforting hand on her friend's arm, and Lami looked at him with sympathy.

"Do you find it hard to get ingredients way out here?" Steffen asked, changing the subject back to alchemy.

"Not really, though sometimes, I suppose," she replied. "We have a great collection of natural ingredients in the marsh, and I harvest them regularly. Illdi used to help me do that," she added with a smile toward her daughter. "The ingredients that aren't local can be difficult to procure. We have a trade route with Solitude, so I do some business and trading with Angeline who runs a shop there. But with the war, the roads are dangerous. Guards are few and far between because they're all defending the cities and off fighting. Bandits run amuck, and now there's talk of dragons," she shivered. "The road to Solitude isn't nearly as safe as it used to be, and the roads to the other cities, Dawnstar and Whiterun, weren't safe to begin with. Morthal really is in a world of its own, and it can be hard sometimes, but it's where I found myself when the divines led me down the path they wanted me on, and it's here I stayed. I'm just glad that my Illdi is getting a chance to see the outside world a bit before she decides whether or not she wants to condemn herself to spending the rest of her life in this dead end town. Though don't let her father hear me say that."

"Illdi tells me you're from Riften," Steffen stated. He enjoyed conversing with the older woman, and if the smile on Illdi's face was any indication, she was enjoying the fact that he was getting along so well with her mother.

"Yes, born and raised there," Lami replied. "I started studying alchemy on my own after reading the book Song of the Alchemist, are you familiar with it?"

Steffen shook his head.

"It was a story about the dwarves," Lami explained. "Written in verse. Most likely fiction. But as a young girl, for whatever reason, it fascinated me, and I took to trying to teach myself. My father, gods rest his soul, was terrified I'd blow the house up, so he tried to get the local alchemy shop owner, Elgrim, to take me on as an apprentice. He agreed, but he really didn't have the patience to be a teacher. After a few years of us both just being frustrated all the time, he suggested I try studying with an old colleague of his in Windhelm. I was sixteen when I started studying under Nurelion. He was a great teacher and so full of knowledge and wisdom. After a few years with him, I traveled a bit. I spent some time in Whiterun, helping out at a store there. When the old woman, Aoife, was ready to retire, she offered to sell me the store, but I refused. Something inside me wasn't ready to be done traveling yet. I ended up in Morthal, and when I met Jorgen, I just knew. This was where I was supposed to be."

Steffen smiled at the woman, admiring her courage to strike out on her own like that at a young age.

"Well, why don't you two head over to the house," Lami suggested. "I'm sure your pa will be pleased to see you, and I'll be closing up soon for Harvest's End. We'll have an early dinner together at the house before we join the others at the inn."

The lumbermill and family home was at the edge of the town across a stone bridge. They found Illdi's father near the mill, splitting wood. He didn't notice their approach at first, so Illdi spoke up.

"Hello, old man," she said with a smile.

He turned, a broad smile appearing beneath his long, dark beard and dropped his axe. "Illdi! What a wonderful surprise!" He wrapped his daughter in a strong hug and placed a kiss on top of her hair.

"Pa, this is my friend, Steffen," Illdi stated, making introductions. "Steffen, meet my father, Jorgen."

The older man gave the young elf an appraising look and extended his hand for a shake.

"It's nice to meet you, sir," Steffen stated.

"You as well," Jorgen replied. "How do you know my daughter?"

"I'm also a student at the college," he answered. "Illdi was kind enough to invite me to come along with her since I was unable to return to my own home for the holiday."

"That's my Illdi," the old man replied with a smile. He turned to his daughter. "Does your mother know you're here?"

She nodded. "We stopped by the hut before we came here," she replied. "Ma said to come see you, and she'd be home soon."

He nodded. "Well, I suppose, being a holiday, I can close up for the day," Jorgen decided with a smile. He lifted his axe from the ground and buried the blade in a nearby stump. "Come, let's share some drink while we wait for Lami to get home."

The small cottage Illdi's family called home was a modest one-room hut with a small porch on the front. Inside, Jorgen stoked the fire in the hearth. On one end of the room were two beds, a small bed for Illdi and a larger one for her parents. On the other end of the room was a medium sized wooden table with four chairs. The only other furniture in the room was a bookshelf, overflowing with various books, alchemy reagents, and dishes, and a storage chest at the foot of Jorgen and Lami's bed.

Steffen took a seat at the table beside Illdi, and Jorgen pulled out a bottle and some goblets.

"I think the occasion calls for some of Jessica's wine," he stated with a smile.

"Jessica is a woman in town who brews her own wine with local ingredients," Illdi explained to her friend. "It's quite popular amongst the townsfolk, and rather delicious if I say so my say."

"Jessica's husband, Hroggar, works with me at the mill," Jorgen added. "He's a hard worker, so I make sure to buy a bottle now and then to help support his family. They have a young daughter to support."

The wine was, by Steffen's standards, a bit too sweet, but it was still far better than the mead Nords usually served, so he didn't complain. The three made small talk, and it wasn't long before Lami returned.

"Steffen," she stated after they had been visiting for a while," do you mind if I ask where your sisters are? You stated earlier at the hut that your father insisted you all leave the island to avoid the Thalmor and that you assume your parents have since been killed, but you didn't mention your sisters. How many do you have?"

Jorgen's eyebrows rose at the talk of the Thalmor, and Lami cast a glance at him that seemed to say not to ask questions because she would catch him up later.

"I have five sisters," Steffen replied. "We're all very close in age, barely a year between each of us. Sadly, I've no idea where they are. We were separated not long before we arrived in Skyrim. We were meant to meet at Helgen, but before our arrival, it was apparently destroyed by a dragon, so I had no clue where to go from there. I met a traveling bard on the road, Talsgar, and accompanied him to Solitude."

Lami and Jorgen both smiled at the mention of the bard.

"He's always such a joy when he visits town," Lami commented.

"Talsgar's a good man," Jorgen agreed.

"He is. He was very kind to me. He told me about the Bard's College," Steffen continued. "I've played the lute and thoroughly enjoyed storytelling since I was very young, but the bardic tradition isn't held as highly amongst my people. My father was a blacksmith; my mother an alchemist, mage, and healer. They wanted me to persue one of their paths or to go into scholarly studies or the military. To the Altmer, music is a hobby, not a career path.

"I never really excelled at much else, though," he explained. "All of my siblings and I have various strengths and weaknesses, and at home, I worried because none of my strengths seemed good enough for any of the career paths my parents wanted me on. Elain is an amazing archer. She took to hunting as if she were born for it, able to get within yards of her game without them noticing and take them down with a single arrow. Nesta, my twin, is resourceful and quick on her feet. Mother and Father weren't always pleased with the choices she made. She tended to put her skills to use causing trouble, but she was nearly as good with a bow as Elain. Aerenwen is the eldest, and she's the warrior of the family. Growing up, she spent most of her time helping our father around his forge. Her skill at smithing is quite advanced, and she can wield a sword better than most I've encountered. She's fearless and valiant. Then there's Mari. She was our mother's student. She took to the arts of magicka more than the rest of us, studying alchemy and enchanting. She was studying at the college outside Firsthold before we left. Last, there's Glenys. Glenys, like me, isn't great with weapons, and she didn't take much interest in alchemy or magicka, but she's the smartest of us all. A genius, really. I swear she needs to only briefly glance at a book, and she can later recite its contents nearly word for word. She's knows a great deal about a variety of topics and absolutely adores research. Glenys is our scholar."

"It sounds like you are very close to your sisters," Illdi commented, pleased that her friend was finally opening up about his family.

Steffen nodded. "I miss them desperately and worry for their safety. They're all more than able to survive in their own ways, so my instincts tell me they're fine. Probably pursuing their own lives based upon their strengths of character here in Skyrim just as I am."

"I'm glad you've found a place where what you enjoy and are good at is not only accepted but quite well respected as a life's path," Lami told the young man, placing a motherly hand on his shoulder. "Being separated from loved ones is difficult, but I believe everything happens according to the divine's plan. Perhaps this was necessary in order to find the path you would achieve the most fulfillment on, and you and your sisters will be reunited again in the future."

"I hope so," Steffen replied. "I'd like to look for them, but I have no idea where to start, and I don't want to draw attention from the Thalmor. In truth, we're probably better off not traveling together. A lone Altmer new to Skyrim is much more discreet than a group of six traveling together."

"Perhaps you could base your search discreetly upon their individual strengths you told us about," Illdi suggested. "Like you, they arrived in Skyrim lost, probably alone, and unfamiliar with the landscape. You had very little coin and few possessions, and your first priority was to find shelter and a source of income. Your strengths led you to the Bard's College. Perhaps theirs did the same."

Steffen nodded. What his friend said made a lot of sense.

"There's a mage's college in Winterhold," Lami commented. "The College of Winterhold, it's called. It's well-respected in other parts of Tamriel, though Nords are fearful and suspicious of magicka and don't approve of the college. It's possible, though, if your sister who was studying to become a mage heard of it, she may continue her studies there."

"There's also an order of warriors in Skyrim called the Companions," Illdi added. "They're based in Whiterun, which isn't far from Helgen. If this Aerenwen is as much of a warrior as you say she is, she could be drawn to them."

"And as for the sister who likes to get into trouble," Jorgen interjected, "her skills would be highly sought after by the Thieves Guild in Riften. They're not nearly as influential as they once were, but I'm told they are still going strong in their home city. If they're looking to return to their previous glory, a woman with skills like your sister would certainly be a desired recruit."

"What about the other two?" Illdi asked. "They're skills maybe aren't as obvious at the others', but is there something in Skyrim that may draw them?"

"I'm not really sure," Steffen replied after some thought. "Although she wasn't the eldest, Elain always saw herself as a guardian of the rest of us. My gut tells me her priority would be finding us and making sure we are all safe."

"So maybe she'll find you," Lami replied.

"Perhaps," the elf answered. "And, Glenys . . . well, she loves history. And a good mystery. I'd imagine she'll be drawn to digging into the past. Although she's not really one to go exploring dangerous ruins on her own, with the right companions, I could see her thoroughly enjoying it. I imagine she'll be drawn to other scholars. There are several in Skyrim she admired and had read all of their works, but I don't know any of their names."

"Well, it sounds like you have a few ideas to start your search," Lami stated. "I have a friend in Whiterun. Arcadia. She runs the alchemy shop I used to work at and was an apprentice under Aoife when I was there. Jorgen's sister is also in Whiterun. She runs the inn. I will send letters to them both with the next carriage, asking if any traveling Altmer have been seen in the city. If your warrior sister has explored the Companions at all, Arcadia or Helge may have noticed her. I'll send word to you in Solitude when I receive a reply."

Steffen thanked the family for their help, feeling a bit of relief at the knowledge that at least he was making attempts toward finding his family instead of doing nothing.


	7. Harvest's End

Chapter Seven: Harvest's End (Middas/Turdas, 27th/28th of Last Seed)

Moorside Inn reminded Steffen of the inns he had visited in Falkreath and Rorikstead, although it was more run down. The inn was quite busy, and Lami commented on how nice that was to see. Apparently, the inn did poor business, having a few regular customers but, as a rule, other business was fairly nonexistent.

"Jonna has improved her business a bit by selling food goods from Solitude," Lami explained to their visitor. "There isn't a single farm in all of Hjaalmarch."

The innkeeper, Jonna, was a Redguard woman of advanced age, not old enough to be considered elderly, but certainly beyond middle age. Her hair had more white in it than black, and lines of age were prominent on her face. She was friendly and pleased to meet Steffen when Illdi introduced them. He sat at the bar and paid her for some wine which she placed in front of him in a heavy goblet.

"So what do you think of our little town?" she asked.

"It's . . . unique," Steffen finally decided upon, not really certain how else to describe it that wasn't insulting.

Jonna laughed outright at that. "It certainly is," she agreed. "I've only lived here for a few years myself. Running an inn certainly weren't in my plan, especially one that does such little business," the woman explained. She lowered her voice and looked around to make sure no one else was listening. "Falion, the resident mage, is my brother, but locals haven't come to trust him, so I don't make that fact known to many. When he left the college in Winterhold and settled here, I decided to follow him. My husband had just passed, and I needed to be with family." She sighed. "It's certainly not home, but there's a roof over my head and enough income to keep food in my belly. Falion helps a bit. And the townsfolk have been welcoming, to me at least."

Steffen made sure to leave the woman a generous tip.

"Beings that you're a bard in training, ignore the orc," Jonna said with a chuckle before he walked away to mingle with some of the patrons. "I've told him he should stick with the lute. His singin' is gonna get his throat cut. But he pays for a room, and I don't have many customers to complain, so I let him stay."

Steffen laughed and cringed as the orc began to belt out a barely recognizable folk song.

The Jarl of the hold, Idgrod Ravencrone, was an elderly woman who, like the town she ruled over, was extremely unique and possessed an air of mystery. She spoke in riddles and claimed to have the gift of foresight. Steffen found her fascinating and enjoyed the conversation he shared with her, but he got the impression that many of the suspicious-natured Nords were less than trusting of their leader and didn't approve of her magickal inclinations.

Her daughter, Idgrod the Younger, was an attractive and kind woman who was a good friend of Illdi's. She was eager to hear their tales of Solitude as her trips outside of Morthal were few and far between.

The other townsfolk were friendly, though perhaps a bit reserved toward their Altmer visitor. Steffen thoroughly enjoyed his evening celebrating with the simple folk of the small town. Everyone seemed, to Steffen, to be good people with honest intentions.

But then there was Alva. Alva was one of the more wealthy residents of Morthal and possessed the title of Thane of Hjaalmarch. There was something about her that made Steffen uneasy, though he couldn't quite put his finger on just what that was.

"Illdi!" the orc bard called out across the room, "perhaps you and your friend could join me in entertaining these fine folks? Show us a bit of what you've learned at the college."

Illdi blushed and started to say no, but Steffen encouraged her. "Come on, Illdi, it'll be fun!" he coaxed. She relented, and before long they were laughing, singing, and receiving tips from the celebrating townsfolk.

* * *

The next morning, Steffen awoke late and slightly hungover. He realized he was in Illdi's bed and looked around, finding his friend still asleep in her parent's bed.

"Good morning," Lami greeted. She stood beside the hearth stirring something that smelled delicious in a cast iron kettle.

"Where's Jorgen?" Steffen asked, standing up with a stretch.

"He stayed at the inn," Lami commented. "He does that from time to time when he plans on having too much to drink. Jonna could certainly use the coin, so I don't complain." She scooped whatever was in the pot into a bowl and walked toward the table. "Have some porridge," she offered. "There's healing herbs in it. The best way I know to kick a hangover over after a Harvest's End celebration."

Steffen thanked her and dug in, complimenting her on the delicious brew.

"I do wish you both could stay longer," Lami replied, "but I understand you need to get back to your studies. Remember, Steffen, you're welcome here anytime. Whenever Illdi comes home or even if you're passing by on your own. Our home is your home."

Steffen thanked her again for her hospitality.

"Hopefully you're both able to visit over Saturalia," Lami commented. "Illdi said the college takes an extended break from classes."

"I'm sure Illdi plans to come home for the holiday," Steffen replied. "Hopefully I am able to join you as well."

"I hope so, Steffen," Lami answered with a smile. "You seem like a good young man. My Illdi, she's a good girl, but she's always had a hard time opening up and making friends. Her father and I have worried she'd never find a life companion. When she brought you home, we couldn't help but hope . . ." she trailed off.

"Look, Lami," Steffen interjected, understanding what the woman was implying, "I don't know what the future will bring for your daughter and me, but I would by lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind." He glanced over at the still sleeping young woman. "She doesn't know that, of course. We've only known each other for a week, and while we're developing a strong friendship quickly, I don't know where it will lead nor do I want to rush into anything. But know, no matter what happens, your daughter will always have a friend and supporter in me."

Lami smiled and squeezed the young man's shoulders. "As her mother, I couldn't ask for anything more. Just know, Steffen, I'm rooting for you," she added with a wink.


	8. Serving Solitude's Citizens

Part Two: Hearthfire

Chapter One: Serving Solitude's Citizens (Morndas, 1st of Hearthfire)

Steffen had truly fallen in love with the city of Solitude. He'd never really felt at home anyplace other than the small city of Mathiisen he had grown up in, but Solitude was quickly becoming home to him. He spent his days studying or exploring the town, and his evenings reading and bonding with Illdi.

His relationship with the woman still hadn't surpassed friendship. Because of his own worries and confusion in regards to how quickly his heart seemed to be replacing Catrin, he was hesitant to make any move toward a romantic relationship with the young Nord, and he gathered, as shy as Illdi was, she wouldn't be making the first move either. He spent more time than he would like to admit thinking over the subject and how he should handle it. Ultimately, he always decided to just continue as they were. After all, they'd been in each other's lives for less than a month. If things were meant to develop into more, he imagined they would do so naturally after a time.

The townfolk were friendly, and though Illdi was still the only person Steffen would consider a friend, he had made several acquaintances. He had spoken with Vittoria Vici, the Imperial woman who managed the East Empire Company (and apparently a cousin to the Emperor himself!) and used his charm to convince her to lower the tithes she was charging Evette San for the ingredients she used to make her spiced wine. Evette had been immensely grateful, and they'd spoken at length about ways in which she could make her wine available to a larger market across Skyrim. Steffen planned to fund the venture, thanks to the small fortune he now possessed after recovering King Olaf's verse. They still had some logistics to figure out, but he felt they were making headway.

Steffen had always had a soft spot in his heart for children, and that was no different in Solitude. The half dozen or so children that roamed the streets of the city had become quite fond of the elf as well, and he spent many an afternoon amusing them with songs and participating in their games of tag and hide-and-seek. Sometimes he could even convince Illdi to join in on the games, and the bright smile and genuine laughter she had when letting her guard down around the children warmed Steffen's heart.

A little blonde girl named Svari, especially, had wormed her way into Steffen's affections. She was the niece of the man Steffen had witnessed being executed when he first arrived to Skyrim, and he did whatever he could to make the sad, little girl smile. She was worried about her mother, Greta, who seemed to be having a very difficult time with her brother's death. Steffen actually found himself sneaking into the Hall of Dead to retrieve Roggvir's Amulet of Talos off his dead body. He sent up a quick prayer to the Divines to forgive him for robbing the dead, telling himself that if Greta hadn't been afraid of retribution from the authorities, she would have requested to keep the amulet before her brother's burial. Steffen was actually a bit surprised that the amulet hadn't been removed from his person anyway, considering Talos worship had been banned within the hold thanks to the Thalmor.

Steffen had been pleasantly surprised at the lack of Thalmor presence within the city. Being that it was the capital of Skyrim and sympathetic to the Empire, he had initially worried that there would be a constant Thalmor presence within the walls, but there wasn't. Apparently, according to Illdi, the Thalmor possessed an embassy within the mountains not far from the city and a fort along the coast to the north. Their visits to the city itself happened only every so often, during which time they would meet with the Jarl and her advisors as well as General Tullius whose headquarters were at the military encampment within the city, Castle Dour.

Aside from himself and Viarmo, there were two other Altmer who made their home within the city, a pair of sisters known as Endarie and Taarie. Together they managed an upscale clothing shop, Radiant Raiment. They had both come on rather strong with Steffen, clearly pleased with the appearance of a handsome, eligible, young man of their race within the city and made certain he was aware they were both on the market and willing to marry. Steffen found them both rather horrid to be around, however. They were conceited and rude and, like most of his race, saw themselves above the other races who made their home within the city. He did his best to avoid them whenever possible, though he would admit, only to himself, the bit of jealousy he saw on Illdi's part when they encountered the women and their endless flirting thrilled him.

Steffen spent a great deal of time in the local apothecary shop, Angeline's Aromatics, if only because being so close to the merchandise within the shop gave him a feeling of warmth and nostalgia for his mother. Angeline was a kind, elderly woman, and she was more than happy to spend some time teaching Steffen the things he regretted not having had the patience to learn from his mother when she had been alive.

There was still no news on his sisters. Though he knew it was too soon to expect word from Lami and Jorgen in reference to their help in the search, each day that passed without news of his family filled him with more concern that, perhaps, they hadn't survived Helgen. He refused to believe they were dead, however. He had never met women as strong as his sisters, and he had to believe if they were no longer in this world, he would be able to feel it somehow.

 **Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, you guys. Life has been crazy hectic between work and the holidays, and I admit I've had a little bit of writer's block in reference to Steffen's part of the story. I have some written ahead for his sisters (who lead a bit more exciting lives) but want to make sure I get his Hearthfire portion of the story published before I post any of that. There will be a half dozen or so chapters in this portion of his story, and I hope to post an update weekly, but please bare with me if it takes me a little bit longer. I promise, I'm not abandoning this family of stories. This is a little bit of a filler chapter. I've got some more excitement planned for Steffen during this month as well as an eagerly anticipated reunion. If you haven't read the stories of his sisters, all five of them have been updated through the end of Hearthfire and can be found on my profile.**


	9. Pelagius the Mad

Chapter Two: Pelagius the Mad (Morndas, 8th of Hearthfire)

Despite its beauty and peace, Solitude still had its seedy underbelly. There were thieves and con-artists who hung around the marketplace during the day, scoping out their next mark. There were beggars and homeless, though they were generally shooed away by the guards. Steffen had spoken to a few and handed over some food or coins when he was able.

Gossip ran amuck amongst the citizens of the fine city, and the current hot topic, aside from the war and dragons, was one such beggar who roamed the streets near the palace, ranting and raving about his lost master and pleading for help.

Steffen encountered this man late in the evening one day when he was on his way back to the college after dining at the inn. The Bosmer appeared older than he probably was, worn and haggard, with torn dirty rags for clothing and a lost, glazed look in his eye.

"Please, take pity on an old madman!" he was wailing as he sought help from the many citizens hurrying to their homes. All cast their eyes in the other direction, trying their best not to make eye contact with the crazy elf. "Wait! Hear my plea! My master, he is lost between worlds, and I cannot bring him back!"

Steffen, unlike the others, took pity on the man and cautiously approached him. He wondered if the elf was truly crazy or under the influence of Skooma, and he wanted to help him. Perhaps with some food in his belly and some healing care, he would calm down a bit.

"You!" the Bosmer cried, pointing to Steffen. "You'll help me, won't you? You have a kind heart. You help people."

"What is it that you need?" Steffen asked, ignoring the looks he received from those in the vicinity, no doubt wondering why he would take the time to speak to the destitute madman.

"My master has abandoned me!" the man replied, near tears. "Abandoned his people! Nothing I say can change his mind. He says I interrupt his vacation," the man scoffed. "It's been so many years. Will you please help me?"

Steffen nodded. "What is your name?"

"Dervenin," the Bosmer replied.

"Why don't you leave your master, Dervenin?" Steffen asked. "If he cares so little for you, you could be free from his service."

Dervenin shook his head frantically. "You don't understand. Without him, I am not free. Without him, I am doomed! All of this empire shall plunge into chaos. . . "

Steffen placed a hand on the man's arm, hoping to interrupt what was clearly going to turn into another mad tirade. "Where is your master?"

"Last I saw him, he was visiting a friend in the Blue Palace," Dervenin answered, his gray eyes on Steffen but not quite focused.

"The Jarl?"

Dervenin shook his head. "No one as mundane as the Jarl," he answered as if that were the most asinine thing he had ever heard. "Such people are below him. No . . . he went into the forbidden wing of the palace to speak with an old friend. Said it had been ages since they had last had tea."

Forbidden wing? Now Steffen was truly intrigued. He had visited the palace a few more times since his initial trip with the headmaster, but he had never heard any talk of a forbidden wing. "I'll ask around and see if I can find your master, Dervenin," he replied, hoping his words and the calm tone of his voice would calm the frantic elf. "Please lay low in the meantime. I will help you. There is no reason to continue roaming the streets."

The elf nodded. He stopped Steffen once more as the Altmer began to walk away. "Wait! You'll need the hip bone," he stated as he reached into the satchel he carried and pulled out what looked like an actual human hip. Steffen's eyes widened as he tentatively took the bone into his hands. "It's very important," Dervenin explained. "No one enters Pelagius' Wing without that!"

Steffen nodded and glanced around as he hid the bone within his own satchel.

Back in his quarters, he tucked the bone into his chest, finding the artifact a bit grotesque. The forbidden wing had something to do with the Emperor Pelagius the Mad? This was becoming odder and odder.

* * *

The next day, Steffen entered the Blue Palace during the public's visiting hours. He saw the maid, Una, sweeping near the stairs and approached her. He'd spoken with her a few times when visiting the palace and considered her an acquaintance.

"Una, can you tell me where the Pelagius Wing of the palace is?" he asked quietly, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention.

The blonde Nord's eyes widened, and she frantically shook her head. "Not on your life, Steffen. That wing is forbidden and dangerous," she whispered. "Falk doesn't even like Erdi and me going in to clean. He only lets us go in once a year or so to clean out the spiders and always with guards. I don't know what it is about that place, but it feels evil. I always feel like someone is watching me when I'm in there."

Steffen sighed. He decided to use Falk Firebeard, the Jarl's steward, as an excuse. "That's just it. Falk asked me to check it out," he lied. "They're trying to figure out what exactly is wrong with that area of the palace, and I offered to have a look, but we were interrupted before he could give me directions."

Una narrowed her eyes at Steffen. She didn't seem to believe him but also seemed to realize she wasn't going to be able to dissuade him from his endeavor. She reached for the keys tied to the belt at her waist and pulled one off the ring, handing it to the elf. "If anyone catches you, you didn't get this from me."

Steffen nodded, and Una pointed him in the direction of a locked door just beyond the stairs on the first floor. He unlocked it and snuck inside, closing it behind him. This part of the palace was dark and in disrepair. He summoned one of the few spells he knew, a guiding light, in his palm, and navigated his way through the piles of dusty, stacked furniture and cobwebs. He found no one, nor any sign that anyone had visited the wing any time recently. He found his way upstairs and into a beautiful hallway. The ceilings were high and the ornate, stained glass windows let in enough light that he was able to douse the magical light in his palm.

Steffen was just about hallway down the corridor when he suddenly felt lightheaded. He reached out toward the wall to steady himself, but instead, found himself feeling as though he were falling. Lights flashed around him, and he was so dizzy. Perhaps exploring the forbidden wing hadn't been such a good idea after all.

* * *

When Steffen came to his senses, he stood in a clearing. The area around the clearing was surrounded by a dense fog, and in the center of the clearing was an elaborately set dining table. Two men sat at the table. One, white-haired and bearded, wore odd clothing. One half was in brightly colored stripes, the other a dark, crimson red. The other man was blonde, his long hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He wore fine clothes and had an air of authority about him.

"More tea, Pelly my dear?" the older man asked, reaching toward a metal teapot on the table.

The nobleman raised his hand and shook his head. "Oh, I couldn't," he replied. "Goes right through me. Besides, I have so many things to do. So many undesirables to contend with . . . naysayers, buffoons, detractors. Why, my headsman hasn't slept in three days!"

Steffen looked on, wide-eyed, as the two men held their conversation as if he hadn't just appeared in the midst of their dinner.

"You are far too hard on yourself, my dear, sweet, homicidally insane Pelagius," the old man replied, shaking his head with the sort of smile that could only be worn by someone not completely in touch with reality.

Pelagius? Was Steffen, somehow, in the presence of the long-dead Emperor Pelagius the Mad?

"What would the people do without you?" the old man continued. "Dance? Sing? Smile? Grow old?" He scoffed as if the idea of happy, prosperous people was the worst thing he'd ever heard of. "You are the best Septim that's ever ruled. Well, except for that Martin fellow, but he turned into a dragon god, and that's hardly sporting. You know, I was there for that whole sordid affair. Marvelous time! Butterflies, blood, a Fox, a severed head . . . Oh, and the cheese! To die for!"

Steffen wondered who this crazy man that claimed to have been there for the Oblivion Crisis could possibly be? A dead emperor and someone who had witnessed events that took place centuries before? Where on Nirn was he?

"Yes, yes," Pelagius answered, sounding uninterested, "as you've said, countless times before . . "

The old man let out a disgusted exhalation of breath. "Well then, if you're going to be like that, perhaps it's best I take my leave. A good day to you, sir."

With that, the man, Pelagius, disappeared, leaving the old man sitting alone at the table, nibbling fruit and cheese. Steffen took a closer look at the man. His appearance was odd. His white hair gave him an elderly appearance, but in truth, his face and build made him look quite young. He turned toward the Altmer and smiled with glee.

"Who was that?" Steffen asked. It was certainly not a polite greeting, but he couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he had possibly just seen a long-dead emperor.

"Emperor Pelagius III," the man replied. At Steffen's disbelieving look, he continued. "Now surely even you know about Pelagius' decree? On his deathbed - oh, and this was inspired - he forbade death! Death! Outlawed it!" He chuckled.

"Where am I?" Steffen asked, dreading the answer.

"Inside the mind of Pelagius, silly," he answered, the insane, gleeful smile never leaving his face. "Oh!" he gasped. "Is it your first time?"

"Ummm, yes?" Steffen replied, though it sounded more like a question than an answer. He was so out of his element . . . so lost. He should've never tried to help that beggar. "I was exploring Pelagius' Wing at the Blue Palace to deliver a message."

The man wiggled excitedly in his seat. "Really? "Oh! Oh! What kind of message? A song? A summons? Wait, I know! A death threat written on the back of an Argonian concubine! Those are my favorites." He chuckled and smiled as if he were recalling a fond memory. "Well? Spit it out, mortal! I haven't got an eternity." Another mad chuckle. "Actually, I do. Little joke. But seriously, what's the message?"

This crazy man had to be Dervenin's lost master. "I was sent to retrieve you from your vacation."

The smile never left the man's face, but his eyes took on a harder look. "Were you now? By whom?" He held his hands up to stop Steffen from answering. "Wait! Let me guess. Was it Molag? No . . . Little Tim, the toymaker's son? The ghost of King Lysandus? Or was it . . . Yes! Stanley that talking grapefruit from Passwall." He looked at Steffen who shook his head. "No matter, you tiny, puny, expendable, little mortal. You actually think you can convince me to leave? Because that's crazy. You do realize who you're dealing with here, don't you?"

"I think it was a mistake coming here," Steffen muttered which caused the old man's insane gleefulness to appear in his eyes once more.

"No, no, no," he answered with a chuckle. "No mistake at all. What you made was a choice. Granted, not a very wise choice, but these things happen. Ah, the folly of youth . . ." He sighed and turned in his seat slightly to take a better look at Steffen. "You know, you remind me of myself at your age. All I cared about was riding narwhals and sleeping in honeycombs and drinking babies' tears. Word of advice - if you ride a narwhal, mind the pointy end. Ah, but there I go waxing poetic about my misspent youth. Now where were we? Ah, yes. You're the mortal messenger, and I am . . " He raised a white eyebrow at Steffen. "Honestly. Have you any idea?"

Steffen shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know, sir."

"Wrong!" the man barked out. "Actually, you do. Sort of. I am a part of you, little mortal. I am a shadow in your subconscious, a blemish on your fragile, little psyche. You know me. You just don't know it." He smiled proudly. "I am Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness, at your service."

The Altmer's golden eyes widened. A Daedric Prince? He really shouldn't have gone wandering in the forbidden wing. He was more out of his element than he had realized. "Will you return?" he asked, swallowing thickly. "Your people say they need you."

"Now that's the real question, isn't it?" Sheogorath answered with a smirk. "Because honestly, how much time off does a demented Daedra really need? So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to leave. That's right! I'm done. Holiday complete. Time to return to the hum drum day-to-day. On one condition," he added. "You have to find the way out first. Good luck with that."

Steffen sighed. This was a trick. He knew it. "What's the catch?" he asked.

"Ah, I do love it when the mortals know they're being manipulated. Makes things infinitely more interesting. Care to take a look around?" Sheogorath asked. "This is not, I dare say, the Solitude botanical gardens. Have you any idea where you are? Where you truly are? Welcome to the deceptively verdant mind of the Emperor Pelagius III. That's right!" he chuckled. "You're in the head of a dead, homicidally insane monarch. Now, I know what you're thinking. Can I still rely on my weapons and skills and all that nonsense? Sure, sure . . . or you could use . . The Wabbajack!" Suddenly a tall staff appeared in Steffen's hand, and Sheogorath cackled loudly. "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

Steffen was well aware of what The Wabbajack was - a Daedric artifact created by Sheogorath himself. He'd read of its unpredictable abilities. When used, the wielder never knew what the results would be.

Sheogorath gestured toward three pathways that could now be seen through the dense fog leading out of the clearing through stone arches, and Steffen slowly began making his way down the first.

The Daedra's voice suddenly echoed around him. "Oh, good choice! Well, good for me. I find everyone being out to get you so terribly entertaining. You might find it . . . less so. You see, Pelagius' mother was . . well, let us say unique. Although, I suppose in the grand scheme of things, she was fairly average for a Septim. That woman wielded fear like a cleaver. Or did she wield a cleaver and make people afraid? I never get that part right. Oh, but she taught her son well. Pelagius learned at a very early age that danger could come from anywhere at any time, delivered by anyone."

Steffen came to the edge of the path and found himself standing at a small arena. He could see Pelagius sitting across the arena with two other men sitting behind him. Two storm atronachs fought below them in the center of the arena.

"The objective here is simple, you simpleton!" Sheogorath's voice echoed around him. "Use your Wabbajack to defeat the enemy while they do the same!"

Steffen glanced around. The enemy? It wouldn't be the storm atronachs. After all, they were the competitors within the arena. Those watching from the sidelines were not in danger from those fighting below them. Sheogorath had stated that danger could come from anyone at any time. The two men behind the emperor seemed the obvious choice. He held up his Wabbajack and aimed it at the man on the right. A ball of light flew from it, and suddenly, the two men transformed into wolves and began attacking the emperor.

"Oh no!" Sheogorath's voice cried. "I thought you'd never figure it out!"

The wolves and the emperor disappeared, and the Daedra's voice continued around him. "With the threat gone, Pelagius is under the delusion he is safe, which means you've helped him out . . . sort of. And we're that much closer to home."

Steffen returned the way in which he had come, retracing his steps down the path and beginning down the second one. Again, Sheogorath spoke to him as he made his way through the fog.

"Ah, now this is a sad path," he lamented. "Pelagius hated and feared many things. Assassins, wild dogs, the undead, pumpernickel. But the deepest, keenest hatred was for himself. The attacks he makes on himself can be seen here fully. They are always carried out on the weakest part of his fragile self."

Two images of the emperor appeared before Steffen. A large, giant-like Pelagius was beating a very small, child-size Pelagius with closed fists.

"The self-loathing enhances Pelagius' anger, but his confidence will shrink with every hit. You must bring the two in balance."

Steffen began firing the Wabbajack at the two versions of Pelagius until they were the same size. Once again, the scene before him disappeared, leaving him alone in the clearing with the Daedric Prince's voice echoing around him.

"Wonderfully done! Pelagius is finally ready to love himself and continue hating everyone else."

Finally, Steffen made his way down the third path.

"You've headed down the path of dreams," Sheogorath explained. "Unfortunately for you, Pelagius suffered night terrors from a young age."

Pelagius could be seen sleeping in a bed in the middle of the next clearing. He tossed and turned and cried out, tormented in his sleep.

"All you need to do is find something to wake our poor Pelagius up," Sheogorath explained. "You'll find his terrors easy to repel but persistent."

As Pelagius dreamed, visions appeared around him - wolves, hagravens, atronachs. Steffen used his Wabbajack to defeat them, diving behind boulders and trees to avoid their attacks. Finally, Pelagius sat up in his bed, and Steffen breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well now, that's something to crow about," Sheogorath cackled. "With Pelagius up and about, we'll both be home in no time."

Steffen made his way back to the clearing with the table, and Sheogorath cast him an eery smile from his seat. "I've done it," the Altmer announced, standing before the Daedric Prince. "I've fixed Pelagius' mind."

The Prince smirked. "Fixed is such a subjective term. I think treated is far more appropriate, don't you? Like one does to a rash or an arrow in the face. But no matter. Heartless mortal that you are, you've actually succeeded and survived. I am forced to honor my end of the bargain. So congratulations! You're free to go!" He waved a hand as if Steffen could just wander off. "I have been known to change my mind. So go. Really."

Steffen looked around nervously. How was he supposed to leave? He didn't know how he had gotten there in the first place.

"Pelagius Septim III, once the Mad Emperor of Tamriel, now so boringly sane," Sheogorath sighed. "I always knew he had it in him!" He stood and glanced around the clearing. "Well, I suppose it's back to the Shivering Isles. The trouble Haskill can get into while I'm gone simply boggles the mind." He began to check off things as if he were packing, things Steffen doubted he had actually brought with him - clothes, shoes, luggage. Even his beard.

Suddenly, the mad beggar, Dervenin, appeared in the clearing. He was clearly overjoyed to his master, and a huge smile graced his tired face. "Master!" he cried. "You've taken me back! Does this mean we're going home? Oh happy times! I cannot wait to . . "

Sheogorath interrupted him. "Yes, yes, that's quite enough celebration. Let's send you ahead, shall we?"

Dervenin disappeared, and the Daedric Prince once again turned toward Steffen. "As for you, my little, mortal minion . . . feel free to keep The Wabbajack as a symbol of my . . " he seemed to be thinking of the correct term and then simply shrugged. "Just take the damn thing. You take care of yourself now, and if you ever find yourself up in New Sheoth, do look me up. We can share a strawberry torte. Ta ta!" He waved, and Steffen felt that dizzying feeling he had felt before.

* * *

He came to in the same corridor of the Pelagius Wing that he had disappeared in and quickly made his way out. The night sky led him to believe that hours had gone by since he had spoken to Dervenin. He hurriedly made his way to the college and placed the hip bone and Una's key in his chest along with the Wabbajack. He'd return the key tomorrow. He fell asleep feeling a bit proud of himself for actually facing a Daedric Prince and living to tell about it but also promising never to go poking his nose where it didn't belong again.


	10. Thane of Haafinger

Chapter Three: Thane of Haafinger (Loredas, 13th of Hearthfire; Sundas, 14th of Hearthfire; Morndas, 15th of Hearthfire)

Steffen made his way into the throne room of the Blue Palace nervously. He had been summoned for a private meeting with the Jarl herself. He couldn't imagine what she could possibly want with him, and he was immediately worried that he had been discovered by the Thalmor.

Elisif was young and beautiful. She sat on her throne in fine robes, a jeweled crown sitting atop her brunette head. From what Steffen could tell, she was a good leader despite the fact that she had only ever intended to be the High King's wife and not a ruler herself.

"Ah, Steffen, thank you for coming," she stated with a soft smile. Her voice was soft and sweet, and her smile set him a bit at ease. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked to see you. You were a great help in retrieving King Olaf's Verse from the bard's tomb, and I have an errand for you if you're willing."

"What is it you need, my Jarl?" he asked with a slight bow of his head.

"When my husband died, I gave an offering to all of the gods, except Talos," she explained. "My husband was a true Nord, and despite the Thalmor's laws, he worshipped the great Talos. I do not feel right not making an offering to him in Torygg's name. I feel as if I will rest easier knowing it has been done. It is what my husband would have wanted. I cannot do this myself, of course. Any shrines to Talos in our city have been destroyed nor am I aware of any located within the hold. And I am being watched. I'm sure you realize what would happen if it was discovered that I was making any sort of tribute to the outlawed god."

Steffen nodded his understanding. She would be taken into custody by the Thalmor, and Haafinger would, once again, be without a Jarl. Ulfric Stormcloak would have an easier time in his bid for the throne without Elisif vying against him.

"Perhaps, because of your race, your presence at such a shrine would be less suspect," she continued. "If you would be willing to do this for me, I would consider it a personal favor as well as a service to our hold in honoring my late husband. There would be a reward in thanks."

"I will do it," Steffen stated, though the task frightened him. There was an excellent chance the shrines would be being watched by the Thalmor, and he had no desire to encounter any of them.

Elisif thanked him and handed over her husband's war horn. She then pointed him in the direction of a shrine she had once visited with her husband in the far north of Whiterun Hold.

* * *

Steffen hired Balrand's services to aid him on his journey. He wasn't brave enough to wander into the wilds of Skyrim alone, and this way, he would have some protection should he encounter any Thalmor at the Shrine. He had been given leave from his classes on Morndas as soon as he had presented the headmaster with a note from Elisif explaining she had hired Steffen to perform an errand for her. Viarmo was obviously curious as to what that errand could be but didn't ask any questions.

They rode in the hired carriage for nearly a full day before arriving in the city of Whiterun.

"There's a shrine to Talos here," Balrand stated as they walked the streets of the beautiful Nord city. "You could just do it here and not worry about the Thalmor."

"As appealing as that sounds, Elisif was quite specific as to which shrine she wished for the tribute to made at," Steffen replied.

After securing a room at the inn and making certain that Balrand was all set with a meal and plenty of mead, Steffen asked around and was directed toward Jorrvaskr. He approached the ship-shaped hall, but when he saw two warriors in a scuffle outside the entrance, he decided not to go any closer.

"Steffen, you're a damn coward," he muttered to himself as he returned to the inn. He tried to tell himself Aerenwen probably wasn't there anyway, but he wondered if he'd ever find the courage to seek his sisters out. After all they had done for him, he couldn't even approach a group of warriors and ask a simple question.

* * *

The shrine of Talos Elisif had spoken of was northeast of Whiterun, located in the snowy mountains. Balrand stood guard as Steffen quickly laid the war horn atop the alter. They were making their way back toward the road through the trees when a Thalmor justiciary and two soldiers appeared.

"Halt!" the justiciary announced. "What is your business here?"

Steffen assumed they hadn't actually seen him at the alter. The Thalmor weren't usually ones to ask questions first if they felt they had enough proof to act, so he lied. "I'm touring Skyrim with my bodyguard in search of the magical standing stones I read of during my studies in the Imperial City." He tried to make his voice sound confident and strong, doing his best to channel his parents and sisters and hide his nerves. "I was told there was one near here, but we seem to have lost our way. All I've seen is a statue of some Nord warrior and that certainly isn't what I am looking for."

The justiciary seemed to relax at that, and he motioned for his soldiers to sheath their weapons. "You must be looking for the Ritual Stone," he stated with a nod. "It is located to the south of here, just a short distance." He pointed through the trees.

"Thank you," Steffen replied with a nod. "I suppose I am quite fortunate to have come across you kinsmen here."

The justiciary smiled the smarmy sort of smile most of their race shared. "We are tasked with guarding that statue you happened upon," he explained. "Believe it or not, it's a shrine to that blasphemous Nord god, Talos."

Steffen widened his eyes as if he had just learned that for the first time. "I had no idea! Why hasn't it been destroyed?"

The justiciary frowned. "It would be best if it were, but it was decided it would be useful as a trap. The number of Nords we've taken into custody when they visited the shrine is astounding, really. Such simpletons." He cast a look of disdain in Balrand's direction.

"Well, thank you for your assistance," Steffen stated after a moment. "We'd best be off. I'd like to be off the roads well before dark. This province is dreadfully dangerous."

The justiciary nodded in understanding and wished them safe travels before he and the soldiers disappeared through the trees toward the shrine.

"Quick thinking," Balrand muttered.

Steffen took deep breaths in an effort to calm his racing heart, and thanked the gods he had spent the time reading that book about the ritual stones after first arriving at the college. It hadn't been such a waste of time after all.

* * *

"In recognition of your service to your Jarl and the people of our fine hold, I grant you the title of Thane of Haafinger," Elisif announced in front of a small audience Morndas afternoon. "It is an honorary title, mostly, though I will sometimes call on you to act as an advisor or perform tasks for me. With the title comes property in the city as well as a your own personal housecarl. I think you will be happy with my choice for your residence. Proudspire Manor is located next door to the Bard's College."

Steffen thanked the Jarl and bowed gracefully. He handed over a sum of coins to the steward for the renovations of the house and was informed it would be a few weeks before it was habitable. Apparently it had sat empty for quite some time.

Back at the college, he told Illdi of his journey, and she reassured him that he would find his sisters. That his inaction in Whiterun hadn't caused any delays on that front. Steffen couldn't help but feel he was letting them down again.


	11. A Visitor

Chapter Four: A Visitor (Middas, 24th of Hearthfire)

"Steffen, you have a visitor," Viarmo stated as he appeared at the bottom of the stairs where the younger Altmer was studying between classes.

Confused, Steffen followed the headmaster back up to the reception area. Who on Nirn would be visiting him? But when he spotted a familiar woman with black hair sitting on a bench near the door, he sighed with relief and was filled with excitement.

"Elain!" he gasped, rushing to her. They embraced when she stood.

Elain looked good. She wore simple, leather armor and that cocky smirk she'd always possessed. She seemed to be in good health and didn't appear as though she had been struggling to survive at all.

"How did you find me?" Steffen asked.

"A man called Jorgen in Morthal," she replied.

Ah, Illdi's father had come through where he couldn't. Steffen smiled and glanced toward the doorway to the library where Viarmo was lingering. "Viarmo, this is one of my sisters, Elain. We were separated upon arriving in Skyrim, and I wasn't sure what had become of her."

Viarmo smiled. "This is a joyful reunion then," he commented. "I'll leave you both to catch up."

"Thank you, sir," Steffen replied. He then sat down beside Elain who had returned to her previous seat on the bench. "You were in Morthal?"

His sister nodded. "Aerenwen and I were just passing through," she explained, "and we met Jorgen at the inn. He recognized our names from you telling him about us, so he approached and told us where you were. Aerenwen sends her regards but was unable to make the trip at this time. She's a member of the Companions in Whiterun and doing quite well for herself. She's earned herself the title of Thane and owns a home there. She adopted a young boy who was orphaned at Helgen and has found a life partner in one of her fellow Companions. They haven't said as much, and it's a bit soon, but I suspect we'll all be attending a wedding ceremony before too long. I've never seen Aerenwen so smitten, and Aela clearly returns her affections. She's a good woman and a good match for our sister."

Perhaps if he had not been so cowardly during his brief time in Whiterun, he would have already known that.

Despite his feelings of guilt, he grinned. "Do you have news of any of the others?"

"All of them," Elain replied with a smile. "Nesta has found a home in Riften. She's a member of the Thieves Guild," she added quietly, "and also doing quite well. She was in Windhelm on business and has been staying at my home."

"You own a home in Windhelm?" Steffen asked, surprised.

Elain nodded. "I backtracked to Bruma after we were separated. When I didn't find any of you, I hired a carriage to Helgen, but by the time we arrived, it was already destroyed. There I encountered a Stormcloak soldier who had met Aerenwen, and I traveled with him and his comrades back to Windhelm. I had nowhere else to go and figured starting there in my search for you all was just as good as anywhere else.

"After arriving in the city, I discovered there was a serial killer on the loose, terrorizing young women. I investigated and ended up catching the killer, so the Jarl gave me a title and a home in thanks."

"What about the others? Glenys?" Steffen asked.

"She's well," Elain answered. "She's Thane of the Reach and has a home in Markarth where she lives with her housecarl and a warrior who has won her heart. Both strong, loyal men. She's being well taken care of and is absolutely in her element with all the history in the city.

"Mari has been in Falkreath, but I just left her a few days ago, and she's planning to travel north to Winterhold at the end of the month," she continued. "She's hoping to be accepted at the mage's college there in order to finish her studies."

Steffen sighed. "I am so glad everyone is alive and doing so well," he stated, his relief evident. "I have worried about you all immensely and have been stricken with guilt. We wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for me."

Elain silenced him. "Don't take this all on yourself. In truth, if it weren't for our family's history, we wouldn't have all been implicated by your actions. The blame isn't necessarily any one of ours, nor our parents', and if it weren't for the Thalmor, this wouldn't be an issue. They're the ones at fault behind this. Not us."

Steffen nodded though he wasn't certain the guilt would leave him so easily.

"No one holds you accountable, Steffen," Elain assured him. "I think we all are in agreement that fate has brought us to Skyrim for a reason and that our separation was a necessary hardship in order to find our own paths. Now we know that we're all finding success in doing so, and we'll continue on living our separate lives, touching base when we're able. Now tell me. How did you end up here?"

Steffen brought her up to speed on his journey and how he had found himself a student at the Bard's College. She was thrilled to hear how successful his studies were going and that he had finally found a place where he felt he could contribute and where his skills were actually valued. She gave him a warm hug.

A clock in the corner chimed, indicating the hour, and Steffen stood. "I have class soon," he informed her. "I'm afraid I can't invite you in any further. Only members of the college and staff are allowed beyond the reception area, but I'll pay for a room for you at the inn."

Elain assured him that she had plenty of coin and that wasn't necessary. They made plans to meet at the inn for dinner, and Steffen wandered off to class, feeling more at peace knowing that his sisters were all alive and well.

After class, he couldn't wait to tell Illdi what he had learned of his sisters. She was thrilled for him and quickly penned a letter to her parents to let them know as well.

The two friends joined Elain for dinner at the inn, and Steffen had a surreal moment where it was as if his two lives were meeting as he watched his friend (maybe more?) laugh at one of his sister's jokes.

Perhaps now that he knew his sisters were safe and successful, he could find a bit more happiness in his own success as well.

 **Author's Note: That's the end of the second part of Steffen's story. We'll check back in with Aerenwen next. The first chapter of part three of her story will be posted at some point today.**


	12. Life in Solitude

Part Three: Frostfall

Chapter One: Life in Solitude (the month of Frostfall)

After Elain left, Steffen's life went on business as usual. He missed his sister's presence dreadfully and was quite eager to see the rest of them, but he knew they needed to continue on as they were if for no other reason than avoiding discovery by the Thalmor. He received a letter from Elain shortly after she'd left the city - an odd letter asking him to care for her horse that she'd left at the Solitude stables unexpectedly. He was curious as to what had caused his sister to leave in such a hurry so as not to take her horse with her, considering she'd planned on leaving anyway, but he knew writing back with questions wouldn't lead him to any answers. Elain was the most secretive of them all, so he simply checked in with the stable master, paid some additional coin for the horse's care and visited from time to time to ensure the beast was being well taken care of.

Steffen's studies continued, and a class in flute playing was added to his schedule. He enjoyed his studies and excelled at both lute playing and vocals and felt confident that his professor's were pleased with his progress.

Proudspire Manor, his home, still wasn't finished, and he was told it would probably be close to a month before the work on it was complete. He'd visited a few times, however, to check the progress and familiarize himself with the layout, and he thought he'd be quite happy there. With its proximity to the college, it wouldn't interfere with his studies at all to stay there, and it would grant him the privacy he lacked in the dormitory.

A Nord woman known as Jordis the Sword Maiden was assigned as Steffen's housecarl, and she was already staying at the manor, her bedroom in the basement being one of the first areas of the home to have been renovated. Steffen could tell already that he would like her and that she was a competent warrior who he would be happy to have accompany him on any further adventurous endeavours. She was quiet and honorable and reminded him a bit of Aerenwen.

Steffen's evenings were still spent with Illdi, and he no longer doubted that his friend was developing feelings for him. Though she was shy, her words to him often strayed into the territory of flirting, and she was frequently blushing and affectionate in his presence. He had no doubt about his own feelings for her either, but he was still hesitant to address them. As before, and like many things in his life, he opted to, instead, ignore them and continue as he had been.

When he wasn't studying or spending time with Illdi, Steffen was meeting with Evette Sans to discuss ways to branch out her spiced wine distribution. They had developed a rough business plan and decided their best bet was to look toward the meaderies in Skyrim for partnership. With their help, they could distribute Evette's wine on a grander scale. He had already sent off letters to the owners of Honningbrew Meadery in Whiterun and Black-Briar Meadery in Riften, though he'd yet to hear back.

The end of Frostfall was approaching, and with it, came two messages. One was delivered in person by the Blue Palace's maid, Una.

Steffen greeted her in the college's reception area one afternoon and sat with her on one of the benches.

"I have a message for you from your sister Aerenwen," she stated.

Steffen was surprised. "You've seen Aerenwen?" As far as he knew, Una rarely left Solitude, and he couldn't imagine his sister would have visited the city without looking him up.

Una nodded. "I've just returned from Whiterun," she explained. "My parents reside there. It's where I grew up, actually. My father was the Harbinger of the Companions, and my parents both think very highly of your sister. I traveled to Whiterun for my father's funeral," she added in a sad voice, "and I met your sister there."

"I'm sorry to hear of your father's passing," Steffen consoled, giving the blonde woman's hand a friendly squeeze.

She smiled sadly in response. "Aerenwen wished for me to tell you that she will be arriving in Solitude on Fridas of this week, sometime during the evening," she told him. "She has some business here and will be spending one night at the inn. She doesn't have much time to spare but wishes to see you."

This caused Steffen to smile, and he thanked Una for relaying the message.

The second message came in the form of written correspondence via currier. It was from Maven Black-Briar of Riften. She informed Steffen that she had recently acquired Honningbrew Meadery in Whiterun, now known as Black-Briar Meadery West, and that she would very much like to discuss the spiced wine he had written her about and a possible business venture together.

Steffen sighed happily as he tucked the letter into the drawer of his bedside table. Things were really coming together.


	13. Sisters

Chapter Two: Sisters (Fridas, 24th of Frostfall)

Illdi chuckled at Steffen as they made their way through the dimly-lit streets of Solitude toward the Winking Skeever. His excitement over his sisters' arrival was both joyful to see and contagious. They entered the inn, which was quite crowded and lively, not unusual for a Fridas evening, and quickly secured themselves a table in one of the corners. Illdi laughed again as her friend then proceeded to order anything off the menu he thought his sisters would like and nearly vibrated in his seat with his barely contained excitement.

"There they are!" Steffen gasped.

Illdi followed his gaze toward the entrance of the inn where three women now stood. One was familiar. Of course, Illdi had met Elain during the week she had visited the month before, but they hadn't expected her to be accompanying Aerenwen. The other two were dressed in armor and looked the part of warriors. Both had reddish hair, and the taller one, the Altmer, was obviously Aerenwen. They knew the other was probably Aela, whom they had heard about from Elain.

Steffen immediately stood and began calling out to his sisters, who smiled when they spotted him and made their way across the busy inn toward their table. Elain embraced both Steffen and Illdi, which caught the shy Nord by surprise, before sitting down and digging into the cheese platter.

"Skyrim looks good on you, sister," Steffen stated as he approached Aerenwen. She was studying him as well, and he could see the relief in her eyes at witnessing for herself that he was in good health after all he had endured.

Aerenwen smiled and pulled her brother into a hug. "You as well," she replied. After they broke their embrace, she gestured to the other warrior with her, tugging her toward them slightly by her elbow. "Steffen, this is Aela. She's my shield-sister in the Companions but is also very dear to me."

Steffen smiled and immediately pulled Aela into a hug. The warrior stiffened in surprise at first but then relaxed and returned the embrace. "It's so good to meet you," Steffen said with a smile. "Elain told me a great deal about you and gushed about how good you are for our sister."

Elain snorted between bites of cheese. "I don't gush about anything, Steffen."

"It's good to meet you as well, Steffen," Aela replied. "Aerenwen has spoken of you often."

"You're looking at me like you're surprised by my appearance," he commented, seeing the way Aela was studying him.

She chuckled. "I've always been amazed at just how much alike Elain and Aerenwen look aside from the color of their hair, but you are the spitting image of Nesta, hair color and all."

Steffen grinned. "Nesta is my twin," he explained. He gestured for the women to sit and told them to help themselves. "Aerenwen, Aela, meet my dear friend, Illdi. It was her father you encountered in Morthal."

Illdi shyly shook their hands, but as conversation stretched on, updating one another on their lives, she loosened up, and Steffen was pleased to see just how well she was getting along with his other sister and her companion.

Steffen asked what brought them to Solitude, but when they were vague in their response, answering with a simple "Dragonborn business", he didn't press further. In the past it had infuriated him how secretive some of his sisters could be, but now all that mattered to him was that they were safe and happy. He'd wait until they were ready to tell him whatever secrets they were keeping.

Elain thanked Steffen for watching over her horse and said she hoped to retrieve it while in the city on this trip, though she did ask that he check into the stables on Sundas to see if she'd been able to.

When Steffen looked upon her curiously, she simply shrugged. "We may be in a bit of a hurry when we leave tomorrow night," was the only answer she supplied before handing over some coins to reimburse him for his payment to the stables, although he tried to refuse them.

When they parted ways after visiting, reminiscing, and catching up well into the night, Steffen was sad to see them leave. They promised to return whenever they were able and told him that he and Illdi were welcome in their homes whenever they wished. In return, he invited them to come see his own home after it was finished, and they promised they would.

As the two bards-in-training made their way back to the college, Illdi tucked her arm through Steffen's and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I like your family," she stated softly. "Your sisters, or at least the two I've met thus far, are quite pleasant to be around."

Steffen smiled and reached over with his free hand to squeeze the one that Illdi had tucked beneath his elbow. "I'm glad," he replied, swallowing thickly at what the conversation, and their current position, hinted toward. "They seem to like you as well."

 **Author's Note: This was finished quicker than I had expected and is the end of this installment of Steffen's story. It's brief, but there isn't a ton going on in his world at the moment. Next up will be Aerenwen, and we will be back to the action of the main storyline.**


	14. Proudspire Manor

Part IV: Sun's Dusk

Chapter One: Proudspire Manor (the first week of Sun's Dusk)

Steffen couldn't have been more thrilled with his new home, and it was surely more than he could have ever hoped for. Proudspire Manor was a grand estate, in his opinion. Though it didn't rival the size of his childhood home, Mathiisen Manor, it was rich in its architecture and decor and more than enough space for him and his housecarl.

Jordis was a kind woman with a jovial humor and a loyal demeanor. Steffen knew he could trust her to guard his possessions as well as be all the protection that he needed on the rare adventure. She was clearly a fierce warrior, and he was pleased to know he'd never have to hire a sellsword again.

His home consisted of three floors. In the basement was plenty of storage as well as an armory, which he himself had little use for, and an alchemy and enchanting lab, another space he didn't see himself using but supposed it was nice to have if for no other reason than the ability to offer its use to his sisters when they were in need. His housecarl's bedroom was also located in the basement, and though the room had no windows, it was quite spacious and homey, and the young Nord woman didn't seem to have any complaints. A ground-level entrance from the home was located off the storage area for convenience.

The main floor of the home was actually a story above the ground, and the entrance opened into a grand foyer with the stairwells going both up and down located across from it. There was a sitting room with adequate space for entertaining, a smaller study with plenty of bookshelves, and a large kitchen with an open hearth.

The second floor consisted of his bedroom and a smaller guest room as well as a small sitting area that overlooked the foyer.

Steffen's favorite portion of the home was actually outside. A covered porch was located through an exterior door off the main sitting area, and it had a beautiful view of the sea over the city's walls.

After moving his few belongings in and making a few purchases he considered necessary, Steffen was feeling quite at home in his new abode. He still spent a great deal of time at the College, being that he was right next door, but he, as well as Illdi more often than not, had taken to studying and practicing at Proudspire rather than at the College since there were fewer interruptions.

Steffen couldn't be more thrilled with how his life was going. Of course, it would be better if his sisters were closer so that he could see them more often. He still hadn't even seen Mari, Nesta, or Glenys, after all, but all in all, the life he was leading in Solitude was better than he had ever expected and certainly more than he had hoped to dream of during his time in Thalmor captivity where he felt certain he would meet his end. He enjoyed his studies immensely and was quite pleased with his coursework. He had friends. He possessed a title and his own home, which was more than he could say of his life back on Auridon.

Steffen tried not to think too much of his parents. He knew, first hand what they endured, what they still may be enduring at the hands of the Thalmor if they hadn't been executed yet, and he still felt an immense guilt for it. If he had just minded his business and stayed out of the Thalmor's attention as they had wished, they never would have been arrested. But he hoped they had found peace and knew they would be proud of him now.

A knock on his door pulled Steffen from his thoughts, and soon Illdi had let herself into the house and was calling out for Steffen to join her on her trip to the marketplace. Yes, he missed his family, but he truly loved his life. Who could ask for more?


	15. Finn's Lute

Chapter Two: Finn's Lute (Morndas/Tirdas/Middas, the 10th/11th/12th of Sun's Dusk)

Steffen entered the small office belonging to his advisor, Inge Six Fingers, only to hear the elderly Nord muttering to herself. He couldn't make out everything she was saying, but he did pick up on the fact that she was sad about something.

"Why are you sad?" he asked. He'd developed a great deal of respect for this woman who had become his mentor, and he wished to help her however he could.

"Hmmm?" she replied, distractedly. "Oh, I apologize, Steffen," she said with a chuckle. "My old mind wanders sometimes. I was just thinking about Finn's Lute. About a year ago, some thieves broke into the College and made off with some valuables - mostly gold and silver, a few trinkets - but they managed to steal Finn's Lute. We had no idea where they had fled to, but we've just received a lead, and it's had my mind on it all day. I would very much like that lute back in the College's collection."

"What is Finn's lute?" Steffen wondered. He assumed it was an instrument, a lute, but he'd never heard of it nor did he know who Finn was.

"Finn was the bard who invented the eight course lute that is commonplace today," Inge explained. "Until he found a way to string the extra courses, lutes only possessed six of them. The lute they stole is Finn's original eight course lute. I doubt those fools even realize the value of it."

"You said you had a lead?" Steffen asked.

Inge nodded. "An acquaintance of the college told us that some bandits camped out in Eastmarch were bragging at a tavern about looting the College, and the time frame they spoke of fits that of the robbery. I'm not even sure that they would still have the lute in their possession, but if they don't realize the value of it and didn't seek out the right people, they may not have been able to find a buyer. Regardless, Viarmo says it isn't in the College's budget right now to go looking for it." She sighed.

"Where in Eastmarch are they camped out?" Steffen asked.

"Some place called Stony Brook Cave," Inge replied. "Well, enough of the distractions. I suppose it's time to get to work, my boy. Let me hear that piece you've been practicing."

* * *

Steffen and Jordis arrived in Whiterun around dinnertime the following day. When he had told Viarmo that he wished to look for Finn's Lute, free of cost to the College, the headmaster had been thrilled and quickly granted Steffen a few days' leave from his studies.

He'd decided to recruit Aerenwen's help, knowing he wouldn't be much help to his housecarl in the bandit's lair, and without knowing exactly what they were walking into, they could use all the help they could get.

Steffen had left Jordis outside the city at the stables after receiving directions to his sister's house. He'd knocked, but no one had answered, so he stood waiting a few moments. He had just decided to look for her at the Companion's mead hall when he turned and saw her just a few paces up the road.

"Steffen!" she called out with a smile.

He grinned and met her in an embrace.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. She unlocked her door and led her brother inside her home. He looked curiously around the small but cozy home and could immediately see reflections of his sister's personality in it.

"I'm on business for the Bard's College," he replied. "Well, sort of." He shrugged. "It's not official business, but I know they'll be pleased if I'm successful."

Aerenwen tipped her head in curiosity and gestured for him to have a seat in one of the chairs near the fire.

"My advisor, Inge, is Dean of Lute at the College," he explained. "She was recently lamenting on the loss of a particular artifact that was once in the College's possession. Finn's Lute. It was stolen by bandits some time ago. We think we've tracked its location to a bandit hideout known as Stony Creek Cave in Eastmarch. I have my housecarl, Jordis, with me. She's out at the stables, but I thought I'd check in with you and see if you would like to travel with us. I have no idea how many bandits will be there, and two swords are always better than one."

Aerenwen nodded. "What's so special about this lute?" she wondered.

"It was the very first eight course lute ever created," Steffen replied. "Inge procured it for the College years ago and considered it her most prized possession."

Aerenwen pulled out her map, and her brother showed her the location of the cave on it. It was a few hours ride away, and she figured they could make the trip there and back easily in one day.

"I'll help," she decided, "but I'd rather not leave until tomorrow. There's been a lot going on with the Dragonborn business, and Aela will worry if I disappear while she is away. Plus, I promised Hamish we would picnic together for dinner tonight."

Steffen smiled. "I'll reserve a room at the inn for my housecarl and I for the night."

"You're welcome to stay here," Aerenwen offered.

"I know. Thank you," he replied. "Now tell me what's going with the dragons, Lady Dragonborn."

Aerenwen chuckled. "I've been working with some former Blades agents to determine why the dragons have returned," she explained. "One of them was an archivist back when the Blades were prominent, and apparently the return of the dragons was prophesied. Alduin the World-Eater has returned, and it seems only the Dragonborn can stop him."

Steffen's eyes widened at that information. "How?"

"That is what I don't know yet, brother," Aerenwen answered with a wry grin. "Now tell me, how is life in Solitude? How are your studies? How is your lady friend?"

* * *

Stony Creek Cave was located beside a small lake, and they found the entrance easily enough in a rocky outcrop. Inside, a small pool had developed that fed into the lake at the base of a small waterfall. A corpse lay draped across the top of the falls, and Steffen cringed.

"That's a welcoming sight," he muttered, causing his sister and housecarl to both chuckle.

They followed a pathway up around the edge of the small falls and then waded through shin-deep water up a stream flowing out from deeper within the cave. As they rounded a corner, Aerenwen held up her hand, gesturing for the others to stop.

"What is it?" Steffen asked.

Aerenwen simply shook her head and motioned for them to step back. She summoned a flame spell into her palm and shot the flames ahead of her. Immediately, the air ignited as if it had been full of gas, and the flame traveled further into the cave, the sounds of explosions following.

Steffen glanced at her in surprise. He hadn't even noticed the presence of the gas.

"I think I'm even more glad your brother invited you along now, Dragonborn," Jordis commented.

Aerenwen shrugged. "I feared if I didn't ignite the gas, something would ignite it while we were walking within it."

The others nodded at her reasoning and followed her further upstream into the cave. A few dead bandits marked their path now, their scorched remains still smoking from the results of Aerenwen's fire spell.

Eventually they came to a well-lit path leading up into the rocks on the right of the stream, and they followed it. Aerenwen battled a bandit on a platform part of the way up, but he was no match for her. Another narrow path led off to the left, and they followed it, avoiding a trap, to discover a small furnished cave at the end of the tunnel. A man stood over an alchemy table within the room, and Jordis defeated him after catching him by surprise.

Within the room, they found a great deal of pilfered goods. Aerenwen pocketed a few books and a bright pink gem in an ornate case that intrigued her, and Steffen found an aged lute in a chest that he hoped to be the one he was looking for.

As they made their way back outside, Steffen thanked his sister for accompanying him.

Aerenwen shrugged. "Honestly, compared to what I've been dealing with lately, this was kind of fun."

Steffen chuckled and shook his head. Only one of his sisters would think a dangerous mission into a bandit lair was fun.


	16. Suspicious Sisters

Chapter Three: Suspicious Sisters (Turdas, 13th of Sun's Dusk)

Viarmo had been pleased with Steffen's procurement of Finn's lute, and Inge had been absolutely overjoyed. She'd cradled the lute to her chest like a child and immediately tucked it safely inside a display case she locked up tight.

After that adventure, Steffen expected business at the College to go back to usual, but he was surprised when he was interrupted from his studies and told he had a visitor.

When he encountered Nesta waiting in the reception area, he was overjoyed and immediately introduced the headmaster to his twin sister and sought out Illdi to do the same.

Although they were twins, Nesta was never one of the siblings Steffen had the strongest bond with. He had always been closer to Glenys and Mari because they shared a similar lifestyle and more bookish interests with him whereas Nesta bonded with Elain and Aerenwen over their love of adventure and dangerous exploits.

Despite that, he had always felt close to his twin, and they had bonded in other ways, so he was quite proud to show off his new home and give her a tour of the city.

"What brings you to Solitude?" he asked as they made their way through the streets of his new home.

"Business," she replied cryptically.

"What sort of business?" he asked. Nesta's business back home had usually been in the accompaniment of Elain, and they'd worked as sellswords of a sort, though neither generally used swords, and he'd gathered that, more often than not, the jobs they took were ones more honorable mercenaries would have turned down.

"A very lucrative business," she answered, though that didn't really answer his question.

Steffen sighed and studied his sister. Though she wore armor, it was extremely lightweight and comprised mostly of cotton with heavier leather only covering her torso. She wore gloves and a cowl was around her neck, the hood hanging across her blonde braid. She certainly wasn't dressed like a mercenary. "It's this business that has you settling in Riften?" he asked.

She nodded with a smile. "I'm in a sort of partnership with a local businessman there by the name of Brynjolf," she explained. "I do most of the footwork around Skyrim for him, so he can stay closer to home and deal with clients."

"Are you selling something?" he wondered.

"Sometimes," she replied, "though we're more in the business of procurement. Do you know of an Argonian who lives in the area? Goes by the name Gulum-ei?"

Steffen frowned, both because of his sister's evasiveness and because he recognized the name. "Yes, he's an unsavory sort," he replied. "His job's honest enough, I suppose. Works for the East Empire Company at their warehouse outside the city, though I have no idea what it is exactly he does there."

"Why do you say he's unsavory?" Nesta asked.

Steffen shrugged. "I've just never gotten a good feeling from him," he explained, "and I see him around the city a lot, talking to people that those with good reputations don't usually want to be seen in public with. Known swindlers and shady-looking folks."

Nesta nodded. "Do you have any idea where I could find him?"

"What on Nirn do you want to find him for?" he asked with a frown. What sort of business was his sister involved in?

"I just have some questions for him," she replied. "One of our clients did some business with him and wasn't happy with how it turned out, and I said I'd look into it."

Steffen nodded. That sounded a bit better. Maybe one of his sister's clients had done business with Gulum-ei not realizing he wasn't the honest sort, and they'd sought out her help because she was. Steffen knew that wasn't entirely true, but he chose to lie to himself rather than think about what his sister could be involved in. "He has a tendency to eat dinner at the inn and then stays late into the evening, listening to the bards and drinking a couple of pints," he told her. "I've seen him there almost every evening I swing by. Aside from that, his days are spent at the East Empire Company Warehouse, and I honestly have no idea where he lives."

Nesta thanked him for the information, and they continued toward the marketplace.

"Oh, do you by any chance know Maven Black-Briar?" he asked.

She seemed a bit startled by the question. "I do, actually," she replied. "Why?"

"I have a friend here in the city who makes a spiced wine, one of the most delicious recipes I've ever tasted," he told her. "I think it would be a big seller all over Skyrim, maybe even all of Tamriel, but she lacks the funds to expand her business. I'm trying to help her do so, and we've formed a partnership of sorts. I thought, perhaps, the meaderies in Skyrim would be interested in going in on the business, perhaps helping us manufacture it for a share of the profit, so I penned letters to Black-Briar Meadery and Honningbrew Meadery several weeks ago. I received word back eventually from Maven, explaining that she now owned both meaderies, and that she'd be very interested in meeting with me to discuss this venture further. I was just wondering what your impression was of her."

Nesta seemed to think on that subject quite heavily before replying. "Honestly, Maven has a great head for business," she finally replied. "The Black-Briar Meadery is one of the most successful businesses in Skyrim, certainly the highest grossing business in Riften. She's a very influential citizen there, but I'm not sure how much I would trust her. If your business benefits her, she'll do everything she can to make it a success, but she will throw you under the wagon in the process if she thinks you're expendable."

Steffen frowned. "So what should I do?" he asked. "I thought it was a good idea to get the meaderies in on the production. They have the means for mass production. Evette and I don't."

"It is a very good idea, brother," Nesta assured him. "My advice would be to talk to Maven, go into business with her, but don't give her the recipe just yet. I've done some business with the woman myself and am currently in her good graces. Let me put in a good word for you. Perhaps I can help set you up a meeting in person as well. Just be on your guard and don't let her bully you while at the same time, don't piss her off."

Steffen sighed. "You're much better at dealing with people like that than I am," he replied, discouraged. "I'm a pushover."

Nesta chuckled and nudged him with her elbow. "I'll be your go-between. Don't worry. We'll figure it out together. Now where is this woman with the delicious spiced wine? I'd like to sample some before I put my reputation on the line for you." She winked at him, and he led her toward Evette's stand in the marketplace eager to introduce his sister to his friend and have her taste the product for herself.


End file.
